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Drake having made his way back to the HQ for a bit of a snack, made his way around the HQ looking for the Kitchen. He would be able to get back to answer the call of Soltari since he did have wings and all. But for now would answer the call of his stomach since it could punish him much more for being late with its orders than Xeen or Ora ever could.....If only he could find it with in the halls. Following his nose and the distinct scent that refrigerators made would be his best bet for now.

Ora walked back into the base with much hope that the b*****d had left. She didn't want to look at him, even though his face was imprinted in her mind. She moved to the kitchen and tried to follow one of her mother's strategies "When in doubt:bake brownies." Ora soon discovered though that she was in fact quite inept at cooking, and after burning her brownies to blackened cinders and filling the lower floor of the HQ with a mist of smoke, she summoned a random slave to go buy her brownies from the store, and to be quick about it.

Ora was in the kitchen scowling at the oven. "I made brownies." She said in a low, bitter voice.

Ora pointed at the smoldering pile of black that sat on a pan on top of the stove.

"Then finish them up, and you can eat the coals in the grill when you're done." She said, obviously still grumpy.

Almost as if summoned, Hellions entered the kitchen from a non-dragon-clogged door. The bat was slung over his shoulder as he walked towards the fridge. He payed no heed to Ora, though he did cast a glance at Drake, who seemed to be awkwardly positioned. He grabbed a beer, sat down, and proceeded to drink, as well as smoke the cigarette he held in his mouth.

Ora ignored Drake's question as Hellions entered the room, her red eyes sparked in anger. She glanced at Drake and carefully moved herself between Hellions and the Dragon, almost a protective move on her part in case an attack did occur. "An eyesore, Drake, pay him no heed he has no worth to our cause." She glanced down her slender nose at Hells and his beer, "though he seems to find no problem helping himself to our goods."

She looked at the beer again, an idea forming. She hid behind her own illusion and pulled a dark vial from her pocket, no larger than her small finger. With a quickly hidden movement she tipped the vial into Hellions Beer the moment it took a pause from his lips. She doubted the poison would do anything to him, but she was indeed curious, and if it did work, so much the better.