Oh. [he does seem to relax slightly. ...Insofar as Rincewind can ever relax. Even drunk the man looks vaguely like he's waiting for someone to pull the trapdoor out at his hanging.

But he at least seems to know what cells are. (They aren't just for dungeons anymore.)] You're the second I've met who works with those. Only she specializes in... oh damn... bio-something. I can't remember. Doesn't matter, probably.

And have you figured it out then? [the Luggage - like all manipulative, poorly-behaved creatures when around company - is currently pretending to be a perfectly innocent, perfectly normal wooden trunk. It's even allowing Rincewind to lean an elbow against it.]