Charon seldom dreamed, but when he did he embraced them. Unfortunately he could only recall scraps of this morning's dream. He was at work in the morgue, of that he was certain. However, rather than working on a corpse it was he who was being worked on. The experience itself was not entirely unpleasant. It was the technique being used that distracted him, aggressive and unprofessional. Charon could not be sure, as his memory of the event was slipping away, but he thought it might have been one or both of the gargun he had been forced to work with earlier that was performing his embalming.
As Charon sat up he turned to check the ground beneath where he had been sleeping. As expected, the grass and other nearby plant life had yellowed and wilted slightly. He hoped his companions would not notice but suspected something like that was unlikely to go unnoticed with Eswarth. Charon quickly gathered his things and moved away from the faded greenery nearly fumbling Collinsworth in his haste. "Sorry, friend. Perhaps I should attach a strap? No, it would be a nice one. Fine leather. Maybe a nice green to go with your eyes … or the eyes you once had."