The air was chilled, the stone walls and flooring far underground keeping the temperature of the castle's dungeon consistent, though the air wasn't marvelously fresh or well circulated.

Opening the overhanging cupboard and reaching behind various kitchen-related barricades, one by one green fingers closed about what their owner sought. Removing a plump, clear bottle and carefully bringing it down, he pulled out the stopper and gave his cup of coffee a dose. Eyeing the brown concoction as he swirled it in its inconspicuous white mug, he placed the bottle back in its usual spot behind the Splenda, and was comfortable in the thought that nobody would touch the foul box and therefore none would disturb the bottle's habitat. The last thing he needed was to find that the Monster had gotten a hold of it and swallowed it whole.

Closing the cupboard noisily he padded to the table, rarely used by anyone save him. Settling himself with elbows on the counter, he closed his eyes and sniffed the drink. The mug was warm in his hand, instinctually comforting. The coffee's original scent was marred ever so slightly by his addition, and he furrowed his brow at the murk.

"REDCLOAK!" The undead voice reverberated through the lair, making any 'I didn't hear you's impossible. He had just gotten the melted butter and popcorn catastrophe from the night previous out of his mind, and now he had to leave and thus give the Monster free reign all over again. If it wasn't one thing, it was always another.

He closed his eyes once more and sighed, bringing the mug to his lips and relishing the mild burn as breakfast slid down his throat, shooing the dungeon's chill from his body. The clicking and clattering of bare bone on rock alerted him of his excited boss' forthcoming, to which he was determine to procrastinate a response as long as possible.

The door to the kitchen flew open to reveal a reanimated skeleton, whose face seemed to be grinning despite a complete lack of anything that could indicate facial features.

"Redcloak, you gotta check this out, man. This adventuring party is hilarious. They keep killing all the ninjas."

"The goblin ninjas." Yellow eyes peered at him from over the mug.

"Ya. Come on, the roaches are taking bets on how many more floors they'll make it before one of our guys plays racket ball with them. They have to be one of the stupidest parties I've ever seen; there's some serious comedy potential."

His own gaze held Xykon's red one, and through the lich's amusement Redcloak saw a flicker of something giving a vague sense that he wasn't able to opt out of the invitation.

He pushed back his chair, little white mug clutched firmly in long green hand.
"Right away, sir."