Reed stumbled out of the elevator, his heart still doing a frantic tap-dance against his ribs. The effects of the "Rocket Fuel" were finally fading, leaving him with a heavy, leaden exhaustion that settled into his bones like wet sand.
He rubbed his eyes. The afterimage of the super-speed cleaning session in Grika's workshop still lingered, ghostly outlines of tools flying onto pegboards and blueprints rolling themselves up.
"Never again," Reed muttered, steadying himself against the wall. "Dwarves are built different. My liver just filed a union grievance."
He pushed off the wall and headed toward the Pizza Forge. He needed a chair. He needed water. He needed to make sure the rest of his chaotic family hadn't burned the place down while he was playing alchemist.
The heavy iron door to the staff quarters was warm to the touch. Inside, the massive brick oven bathed the room in a constant, flickering orange glow. It usually smelled of rising dough and tomato sauce.
