Bloofy fest, [Rincewind complains into Jorah's fur, lifting his head enough to resettle his hat. Behind him, the Luggage has already marched off from both of them to kick viciously at the jukebox. He winces as the music gives way mid-note to a groan of metal and the crash of glass. Well. At least it isn't Jorah, he supposes. And nothing's on fire. That has to be worth something.
While grateful for his bear-friend's apparent disinterest in mauling him to death, Rincewind still clears his way back onto his feet and gives Jorah's wounded face a sympathetic look. He'd offer some help for that if he had any to give. Or if... it weren't... stitching itself back together, apparently. Ah. So that's also something Jorah can do. Good to know.
But a helpful (if firm) bear paw reminds Rincewind where his priorities should be with the police approaching. He stumbles, catches himself, and then scurries out without further prompting, pausing only to swipe his crumpled shirt up from the floor. With some reluctance (and only because it's finished dealing with its frustrations by mulching the music box), the Luggage follows its master and exits.
no subject
While grateful for his bear-friend's apparent disinterest in mauling him to death, Rincewind still clears his way back onto his feet and gives Jorah's wounded face a sympathetic look. He'd offer some help for that if he had any to give. Or if... it weren't... stitching itself back together, apparently. Ah. So that's also something Jorah can do. Good to know.
But a helpful (if firm) bear paw reminds Rincewind where his priorities should be with the police approaching. He stumbles, catches himself, and then scurries out without further prompting, pausing only to swipe his crumpled shirt up from the floor. With some reluctance (and only because it's finished dealing with its frustrations by mulching the music box), the Luggage follows its master and exits.
Pursued, one must assume, by a bear.]