Harbull realized a strong need to vent himself as he hunkered down in the darkness... certainly the smell would not be noticed... but then the elf had shushed them (was anyone making a sound? perhaps it could hear their hearts beating in trepidation? Their strained breathes in the mucky air?)... surely it would hear the merest 'pop' and give him cursing glare... so he clenched himself and his dagger tighter... and hoped for the best.
The street urchin was talking to someone now... but through the growing pain of his gas-distended innards Harbull could barely catch a word... it seems she had found someone alive and healthy down in this stink-hole and was chatting them up. He hoped it was a friend of hers... but prepared for the worst.