And Moist thought: so the werewolf is female and has a Watch badge on her collar, and I've seen that hair colour before. Ha!
But his gaze had gone straight back to Mr Fusspot, who was jumping and spinning with a look of total bliss on his little face -
- and then Captain Carrot had plucked him out of the air, the werewolf fled, and the show was over. But Moist would always have the memory. Next time he walked past Sergeant Angua he'd growl under his breath, although that would probably constitute assault.
Now, fully dressed, he went for a walk along endless corridors.
The Watch had put a lot of new guards in the bank for the night. Captain Carrot was clever, you had to give him that. They were trolls. Trolls were very hard to talk round to your point of view.
He could sense them watching him everywhere he went. There wasn't one at the door into the undercroft, but Moist's heart sank when he neared the pool of brilliant light around the Glooper and saw one standing by the door to freedom.
Owlswick was lying on a mattress and snoring, with his paintbrush in his hand. Moist envied him.
Hubert and Igor were working on the tangle of glassware which, Moist could swear, looked bigger every time he came down here.
'What's wrong?'
'Wrong? Nothing. Nothing's wrong!' said Hubert. 'It's all fine! Is something wrong? Why do you think something is wrong? What would make you think there's something wrong?'
Moist yawned. 'Any coffee? Tea?' he suggested.
'For you, Mr Lipwig,' said Igor, 'I will make Thplot.'
'Splot? Real Splot?'
'Indeed, thur,' said Igor smugly.
'You can't buy it here, you know.'
'I am aware of that, thur. It hath now been outlawed in motht of the old country, too,' said Igor, rummaging in a sack.
'Outlawed? It's been outlawed? But it's just a herbal drink! My granny used to make it!'
'Indeed, it wath very traditional,' Igor agreed. 'It put hairth on your chetht.'
'Yes, she used to complain about that.'
'This is an alcoholic beverage?' said Hubert nervously.
'Absolutely not,' said Moist. 'My granny never touched alcohol.' He thought for a moment and then added: 'Except maybe aftershave. Splot's made from tree bark.'
'Oh? Well, that sounds nice,' said Hubert.
Igor retired to his jungle of equipment, and there was the clinking of glassware. Moist sat down at the cluttered bench.
'How's it going in your world, Hubert?' he said. 'The water gurgling around okay, is it?'
'It's fine! Fine! It's all fine! Nothing is wrong at all!' Hubert went blank, fished out his notebook, glanced at a page, and put it back. 'How are you?'
'Me? Oh, great. Except that there should be ten tons of gold in the gold vaults and there isn't.'
It sounded as though a glass had broken in the direction of Igor, and Hubert stared in horror at Moist.
'Ha? Hahahaha?' he said. 'Ha ha ha ha a HAHAHA!! HA HA HA!!! HA HA - '
There was a blur as Igor leapt to the table and grabbed Hubert. 'Thorry, Mr Lipwig,' he said over his shoulder, 'thith can go on for hourth - '
He slapped Hubert twice across the face and pulled a jar out of his pocket.