Miraculsouly, Irahl does get some sleep. It's more than he expects, because he is actually far more worn-out than he knows, but he's up again as soon as he regains even minimal consciousness. The lake is calling him.

It can barely be called dawn when Irahl is out in the water again. His friends will know where he went by the pile of clothes left on the landing boulder, and he stays out there until morning has well and truly arrived.

He's in a good mood when he returns to shore for breakfast. Not only does he participate in the actual meal and what will surely become the tradition of breakfast-booze while camping, but he's more animated than either of them have typically seen. It's almost a normal-person amount of interaction and activity. Robin can tell that the constant, grating discomfort of Irahl's being has quieted down quite a bit.

The way that the dragon's aura is being refilled and straightened out might make putting his nullifying armor back on more unpleasant, but for now, he is as unbothered as he ever gets.

So, as soon as he guesses that they have waited for the day to warm up enough, (and he is the worst person to make that call,) he detaches from their morning lounging by pushing himself up to his feet so he can make an announcement.

"Time to feed the turtles."