Tizzy flicked his thumb and offered Arg-nargoloth a light. The D’Orc commander inhaled, bringing the flame into the doobie.
Tizzy lit his own pipe and inhaled deeply as well. “To be honest,” he said, pausing in his smoking, “I don’t have a whole lot of competition.”
“True!” Arg-nargoloth shook his head. “I still cannot get over your doing it!”
Tizzy tilted his head and grinned. “I wrote it down.” The demon took a quick hit off his pipe. “As it is written, so it shall be done!” he intoned solemnly before bursting into a giggle.
Arg-nargoloth burst out laughing as well. “You and that damn book of yours! You were always running around scribbling all sorts of nonsense in it!” Tizzy shrugged.
Arg-nargoloth paused in thought for a moment. “You know,” the D’Orc said, “this time around, I have not seen you scribbling in it. Where is it?”
Tizzy stopped inhaling to think. He grimaced as if trying to remember something, started to say something and stopped as if to think some more. He tilted his head. “You know, I am not sure. I haven’t seen it in some time.”
Tizzy squinted in thought and finally shrugged and said, “I must have misplaced it somewhere.”
Arg-nargoloth frowned. “Couldn’t that be a problem?”
Tizzy shrugged. “It’s bound to show up at some point. It always does.”
Arg-nargoloth shrugged as well. “Yeah. Well, as I recall, it was rather tricky to open.” Tizzy nodded.
Arg-nargoloth inhaled deeply, feeling the demon weed penetrating his lungs and nasal cavities. It felt so good to finally relax like this after four thousand years of misery.
In the dark room, Arg-nargoloth could just make out the white of Tizzy’s toothy grin lit by the embers in his pipe bowl, which nicely matched the burning red coals of the demon’s eyes.