One metallic gold eye peeled open, followed by it's matching silver companion. A yawn, and a stretch out of limbs followed - exactly until Fleece's foreleg brushed The Wrong Texture. He froze in place at first, and then very slowly turned his head to regard exactly why his satchel of sale goods had The Wrong Texture.

It had, evidently, been bedazzled on every available bit of surface area of the back. What the shit! Offended and agast, Fleece started to push himself up onto his hooves - and caught sight of his cloak. Which was also thoroughly bedazzled on the outer side.

He vibrated in place with rage, and then reluctantly nosed open his satchel (The Wrong Texture was unpleasant to brush against, really), rifling through it and dragging out a worn out, plain looking leather tome. He then got to word flipping through it by way of various subject tabs that some other kind creature with thumbs had inserted into it. Then, more carefully, he nosed through pages in a marked section - pausing on an open spread of pages, squinting at the images and words hand-scrawled in ink. An ear flicked.

"...Pixies. Pixies." He muttered sharply, before stuffing the tome back into the bag, and reluctantly shouldering his bedazzled satchel over his bedazzled cloak. Well, he'd just have to find something helpful, ideally with fingers or claws, to assist in unbedazzling his wear. It was not becoming of a Grand Wizard to look THIS particular flavor of gaudy.

Some time of shuffling around in an ashamed posture later, he'd managed to find a stray imp - on the wrong level of the dungeon, and terribly lost - with the fingers required to assist him. A tense bargaining followed.

"So you'd like an entire ration, my shiniest gem bug, and directions to the furnace...?" It had taken some work to convince the imp of the actual value of things down from way up high; there was no way he'd be able to talk him down to scamming levels of exchange, and if he gave him bad directions to the lower level, he'd just end up with an aggitated imp in pursuit later, which would not do.

"Yess. An' thats a good budget, too."

"...Bargain, the word is bargain-"

"A good Bar Gang too!" The imp looked thoroughly pleased with itself, and waited with it's little hands outstretched. Fleece squinted.

"...and you'll try to remove ALL of these damn cheap jewels?"

"Yah." The imp chirped, pushing it's palms forward more insistently. Fleece sighed, carefully removing a paper packet from his satchel, which contained a dry, unappetitizing, dungeon ration, and dropped it in the imp's palm. A moment later a glittering red jewel bug joined it.

"I'll show you the way AFTER you've finished. So you can't run off."

"Suspahcous horse."

"...It's Suspicious-"