#boche?

A roar wakes him up in the pitch dark. It sounds like someone’s been attacked in a most terrible way and he leaps from his bed and grabs the sword he keeps leaning against the wall.  He races down the corridor towards the rooms Roche and Borch and the Zerrikanian’s are occupying. The noise certainly came from there.  He knocks on Borch’s door and for some reason after a few moments and some muffled noises Roche opens it a crack. He squints out into the torchlight of the corridor.

“Iorveth? What’s the matter?” His voice is even huskier than it usually sounds, surely he can’t have slept through that Gods awful racket.

“I heard shouting, I heard someone yell, I thought you were in trouble.”

“Oh…”

Roche seems to ponder that. He’s standing very oddly in the door, blocking the room from view while also allowing only the top half of his body to be visible through the gap as he looks at him.  Also he’s not wearing a shirt.  Iorveth has only just noticed that and he shifts his gaze immediately up to stare at the dishevelled mess of Roche’s dark hair instead.  Anything to avoid both his eyes and his fucking chest.

“You’re all alright then?”

“Yes, yes, thank you, it’s all fine, I don’t know… perhaps, perhaps someone uhm… shouted in their sleep, or something…”

Roche doesn’t look like he’s been woken up, there’s a little flush about him, more like he’s been working out.  He can hear the voices of the two girls speaking their strange tongue, a little like elder but still unintelligible to him. 

Then he hears Borch’s deep voice.