The sulking pose, bottom on the ground, elbows hugging kneecaps, hooves at 45 degrees, scuffing the toughened soles, Luperci sat in a corner of the Dalaran sewers. Her face was hidden by a mass of thick, dark hair and her shield. The drunken mage was snoring surreptitiously behind the grates. She pretended that he was listening to her, because she needed someone to talk to. Her older sister, Mat, was off doing gods-knew-what, probably saving baby bunnies and fawns in Mt. Hyjal with her druid tree-lovers. Zep lurked in the shadows. The washed-up mage was her only friend. He understood.