"This isn't going to work, Bruno."
"Oh, c'mon, Boots. Lighten up. Things will be the same as they've always been—improving the Hall—together, reporting to the Fish—together, doing dishwashing duty— together. And since you've got your right hand, and you're a faster writer than I am, we can finish our homework loads quicker. Dressing will take some getting used to, but hey, all in a day's work. I don't think a minor setback like this will affect our quality of life. It's not like we'll miss out on anything."
"What about hockey? Do you know how uncoordinated we'd be? We'd practically have to relearn how to skate! Not that it would matter—with all your penalties, we'd both be out for most of the game anyway. And swimming? Forget it. Me trying to drag your dead weight around the pool would be a good way for us to both end up drowned."
"You wouldn't let that happen. I have the utmost faith and confidence in you, Boots."
They lapsed into uneasy silence, which Boots shortly broke.
"Well, my quality of life will be done in if I have to miss breakfast—especially if I'm going to be doing two sets of homework and swimming with extra weight in tow. So I guess you'll be coming with me every morning?"
Bruno gave his roommate a consternated stare. He looked away only to fiercely eye the handcuffs linking their wrists.
"There has got to be some way out of this."