Thud

`Almonte, Wahlulu, Bearhuggers Whiskey Cream and vodka,' said Tawneee, who knew the recipe for every cocktail ever made.

`And how does it work?' said Cheery, craning to see over the top of the bar.

Sally ordered four, and turned back to Tawneee. `So ... you and Nobby Nobbs, eh?' she said. `How about that?' Three sets of ears flared.

The other thing you got used to in the presence of Tawneee was silence. Everywhere she went, went quiet. Oh, and the stares. The silent stares. And sometimes, in the shadows, a sigh. There were goddesses who'd kill to look like Tawneee.

`He's nice,' said Tawneee. `He makes me laugh and he keeps his hands to himself.'

Three faces locked in expressions of concentrated thought. This was Nobby they were talking about. There were so many questions they were not going to ask.

`Has he shown you the tricks he can do with his spots?' Angua said.

`Yes. I thought I'd widdle myself! He's so funny!'

Angua stared into her drink. Cheery coughed. Sally studied the menu.

`And he's very dependable,' said Tawneee. And, as if dimly aware that this was still not sufficient, she added sadly, `If you must know, he's the first boy who's ever asked me out.'

Sally and Angua breathed out together. Light dawned. Ah, that was the problem. And this one's a baaaad case.

`I mean, my hair's all over the place, my legs are too long and I know my bosom is far too-' Tawneee went on, but Sally had raised a quieting hand.

`First point, Tawneee-'

`My real name's Betty,' said Tawneee, blowing a nose so exquisite that the greatest sculptor in the world would have wept to carve it. It went Blort.

`First point, then ... Betty' Sally managed, struggling to use the name, `is that no woman under forty-five-'

`Fifty; Angua corrected.

`Right, fifty ... no woman under fifty uses the word "bosom" to name anything connected to her. You just don't do it.' `I didn't know that,' Tawneee sniffed.

`It's a fact,' said Angua. And, oh dear, how to begin to explain the jerk syndrome? To someone like Tawneee, on whom the name Betty stuck like rocks to a ceiling? This wasn't just a case of the jerk syndrome, this was it, the quintessential, classic, pure platonic example, which should be stuffed and mounted and preserved as a teaching aid for students in the centuries to come. And she was happy with Nobby!

`What I've got to tell you now is. ..'she began, and faded in the face of the task, `is ... Look, shall we have another drink? What's the next cocktail on the menu?'

Cheery peered at it. `Pink, Big and Wobbly,' she announced. `Classy! We'll have four!'

Fred Colon peered through the bars. He was, on the whole, a pretty good jailer: he always had a pot of tea on the go, he was as a general rule amiably disposed to most people, he was too slow to be easily fooled and he kept the cell keys in a tin box in the bottom drawer of his desk, a long way out of reach of any stick, hand, dog, cunningly thrown belt or trained Klatchian monkey spider. [1]

He was a bit worried about this dwarf. You got all sorts in jail, and they often yelled a bit but with this one he didn't know what was worse, the sobbing or the silence. He'd put a candlestick on a

[1] Making Fred Colon possibly unique in the annals of jail history.

stool by the bars, too, because the dwarf carried on alarmingly if

there wasn't enough light.

He stirred the tea reflectively and handed a mug to Nobby.

`We've got a rum 'un here, I reckon,' he said. `A dwarf that's scared

of the dark? Not right in the head, then. Wouldn't touch his tea and

biscuit. What do you think?'

`I think I'll have his biscuit,' said Nobby, reaching over to the plate.

'Why're you down here, anyway?' said Fred. `I'm surprised you ain't out there a-ogling of young women.'

'Tawneee's going out boozing with the girls tonight,' said Nobby.

`Ah, you want to warn her about that sort of thing,' said Fred Colon. `You know what it's like in the centre when the pubs and clubs empty. There's throwin' up and yellin' and unladylike behaviour and takin' their vests off and I don't know what. 'S called

. 'he scratched his head'. .. minge drinking.'

`She's only gone out with Angua and Sally and Cheery, sarge,' said Nobby, taking another biscuit.

'Oooh, you wanna watch that, Nobby. Women gangin' up on men-' Fred paused. `A vampire and a werewolf out on the razzle? Take my tip, lad, stay indoors tonight. And if they start behaving in-'

He stopped as the sound of Sam Vimes's voice came down the spiral stone steps, followed closely by its owner.

`So I've got to stop them forming a block, right?'

`If you're playing the troll side, yes,' said a new voice. `A tight group of dwarfs is bad news for trolls.'

`Trolls shove, dwarfs throw.'

`Right:

`And the central rock, no one can jump that, right?' said Vimes.

`Yes.'

`I still think the dwarfs have it all their own way.'

`We shall see. The important thing-'

Vimes stopped when he saw Nobby and Colon. `Okay, lads, I'll talk to the prisoner now,' he said. `How is he?'

Fred indicated the hunched figure on the narrow bunk in the corner cell.