[the level of sentience the Luggage possesses has been a matter of debate. Most of the higher University staff maintain (in dinner talks which Rincewind notices only occur when they think he's out of earshot) that it's not so much that the Luggage thinks, but rather it's incredibly good at reacting to its environment. ...That its preferred reactions trend overwhelmingly towards inflicting grievous bodily harm is a separate matter altogether, but Rincewind would agree with his not-quite-colleagues on that singular point: the Luggage is absolutely reactive.
It's the young dragon's luck that he's not much to react to, at least in body. The Luggage finds it easier to jump over what thin parts of Viserys line the short passage, little feet pedaling briefly in the air before it lands heavy and makes the curve around the bar.
Rincewind, meanwhile, finds his escape complicated. Jor-bear sends two stools flying, causing the wizard to dodge and some poor biker to trip in his attempt to shove a pool stick through another man's face. The entire bar has seized on the opportunity to brawl, as though the absurdity of a grizzly in a pool hall means open season for everything else. The wizard wouldn't really care if it weren't currently so damn inconvenient. Particularly when (after vaulting with some surprising deftness over a broken table) he catches a punch to the cheek himself, his bare chest apparently enough for someone to mistake him for a combatant. Or maybe the bastard just likes punching wizzards, who knows? Not Rincewind, who's currently seeing stars less poorly-sewn than the one's adorning his hat. Before he can recover (or possibly throw up) he's shoved by a second set of hands, sent staggering back like a stray pinball until he hits - not the bar, surprisingly. Unless that bar has suddenly gotten a lot warmer. And softer. ...And has a furry handle?
With increasing reluctance, Rincewind's dizzied gaze slides up from the nub of bear tail in his hand to the much larger, more recognizable bear back bent over the bar and fishing for wild-caught Targaryen.]
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It's the young dragon's luck that he's not much to react to, at least in body. The Luggage finds it easier to jump over what thin parts of Viserys line the short passage, little feet pedaling briefly in the air before it lands heavy and makes the curve around the bar.
Rincewind, meanwhile, finds his escape complicated. Jor-bear sends two stools flying, causing the wizard to dodge and some poor biker to trip in his attempt to shove a pool stick through another man's face. The entire bar has seized on the opportunity to brawl, as though the absurdity of a grizzly in a pool hall means open season for everything else. The wizard wouldn't really care if it weren't currently so damn inconvenient. Particularly when (after vaulting with some surprising deftness over a broken table) he catches a punch to the cheek himself, his bare chest apparently enough for someone to mistake him for a combatant. Or maybe the bastard just likes punching wizzards, who knows? Not Rincewind, who's currently seeing stars less poorly-sewn than the one's adorning his hat. Before he can recover (or possibly throw up) he's shoved by a second set of hands, sent staggering back like a stray pinball until he hits - not the bar, surprisingly. Unless that bar has suddenly gotten a lot warmer. And softer. ...And has a furry handle?
With increasing reluctance, Rincewind's dizzied gaze slides up from the nub of bear tail in his hand to the much larger, more recognizable bear back bent over the bar and fishing for wild-caught Targaryen.]