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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Forged Fury" data-source="post: 6572692" data-attributes="member: 95059">"Mufilpuf!" Cyril jerked awake with an unintelligible shout, the 2011 Irvington United Methodist Church Directory sliding off his chest and hitting the floor. He could faintly hear shouting, figuring that was what woke him up. Checking the room, nothing looked disturbed, for which he was grateful. Even better, the $60 was still secure. But what about the shouting?Listening intently, he made out what sounded like a few familiar voices. With no gunshots or death screams accompanying the voices, he figured they weren't being attacked by the Russian Mafia. God these motherf(*&%s are loud, can't they let a guy get some sleep?Sitting up on his cot, Cyril stretched lazily, scratching his chest idly. Standing up, he fished out a pair of athletic shorts that the FCC had provided. Not that he planned to work out, but he figured no one wanted to see him walking around in his briefs and he didn't really feel like wearing slacks at the moment. Fortunately, the church offices were pretty well insulated. Slipping on the flip flops he brought from prison, he rearranged the furniture in the office and headed toward the kitchen.Sauntering in, he watched as Marks tried to contain his rage while Otter just seemed oblivious."Should I make some coffee?"</blockquote>