Peculiar to find that I have no regrets.

There is a comfort to be found in this quel'dorei's sudden, unexpected companionship. Leaving the Dawn permanently will be less of an open wound now, I believe. We talked this evening after things settled down--which I will elaborate somewhat upon in a moment--and he has agreed to sell his contract to my Captain and come with us when we move out of port for the next couple of months to finish fortifying the base against winter.

The pleasure I felt in hearing that he wishes to remain nearby and to work at our side--my side, he had specified to my bewilderment--puzzles me, but I am uncertain of whether I can speak on these things to him. Perhaps soon. For now, he is a warmth against Northrend's bitter winds as I make my rounds with the Kalu'ak, each of us to check our respective nets and to share in either good or ill fortune before dusk crawls in early to spend the night.

As to the day's events:

I find myself wishing that Lady Windila had not stumbled upon the two of us in my bed this morning. She could not seem to stop laughing long enough to explain what was so amusing to her--and Master Merosiel vanished as soon as she showed her face. I get the distinct impression from him that he is quite put out with me for not making use of locks on my possessions (including my door). With the Lady Windila, however, I very much am in doubt that a lock would stay in place for long against her curiosity and her desire to know everything.

No regrets for waking up in a bed of rumpled sheets that smell of quel'dorei, but I will endeavor to never again let an elf convince me that I should join him in drink. My head aches as badly as when I have an attack, with an added 'bonus' of what feels like millions of tiny hammers pounding away at my skull.

Master Merosiel calls it a 'hangover' but the word is peculiar and I wonder if he is making it up. He is prone to  what humans coin 'tall tales.' Regardless, I am uncertain if I shall get any work done at all today; I feel far too ill, and Lady Windila's laughter is making the little hammers work overtime.