'The former Dean has egg all over his face,' said Ridcully.
'Well, I'm sure that Professor Turnipseed will be able to bring things back under control,' said Ponder. The tone of his voice was entirely unchanged.
There was a busy little silence and Ridcully said, 'How long do you think we should give him to get it under control?'
'What size are the eggs?'
'Eight or nine feet high, apparently,' said Ridcully.
'With calcium shells?'
'Yes, quite thick, so I'm told.'
Ponder looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. 'Hmm, that's not too bad, then. If you'd said steel it would have been rather worrying. It sounds very much like a blit devolution, possibly caused by... lack of experience.'
'I thought you taught Mister Turnipseed everything you know,' said Ridcully, looking happier than Ponder had seen him in a very long time.
'Well, sir, perhaps there was something he didn't quite grasp. Are people at risk?'
'The wizards have told everyone to stay indoors.'
'Well, sir, I think if I got some of my equipment together we could leave about teatime.'
'I'll come, too, of course,' said Ridcully. He looked at Ponder. 'And - '
'What?' said Ponder. He looked at Ridcully's grin. 'Yes, it might be a good idea if one of the gentlemen from the Times came along to take pictures. They might be very good for instructional purposes.'
'An extremely good plan, Mister Stibbons, and I think we should take the senior faculty as well. They will lend some much-needed... ' He snapped his fingers. 'What's the word?'
'Confusion,' said Ponder.
'No, not that,' said Ridcully.
'Appetite?' said Ponder. 'Weight?'
'Something like that... Ah, gravitas. Oh, yes, lots of gravitas. We aren't the kind of fellows who run around chasing strange birds. I'll see you after lunch. And now I have other matters to deal with.'
'Yes, Archchancellor,' said Ponder. 'Oh, and, um... What about the proposed football match?'
'Regrettably, it appears that it will have to wait until they have rebuilt the university.'
'That's a shame, Archchancellor,' said Ponder.
He carried on with the calculation until the very last figures danced into place, made sure the Archchancellor had left, gave a very small smile, which you might not have noticed had you not expected it, and then pulled another ledger towards him.
It was another good day.
It is now! ct, Juliet and Trev were sitting in the darkness of the Night Kitchen. 'I'll find somethin' to do,' said Trev. 'I'll go wherever you go.'
'You ought to stay here and play football,' said Juliet. 'You know what some people said when we were drinking? They said Dave Likely was your father.'
'Well, yes, that's true.'
'Yes,' said Juliet, 'but they used to say you were his son.'
'Well, maybe a bit of football,' Trev conceded, 'but I don't think I'll get away with the tin can again.'
They kissed.