((I know...I know. The plot bunnies have attacked me! It fits no where in the Watch books...but it's still a good story, right? Argh...lol! Ok...just review. Don't tell me it doesn't fit anywhere! All my love, Lizney Wolf))

You Don't Have to Order Rat
 Chapter Three: Sadly, Severely Shortened ((Yay for alliteration!))

The Dwarf delicatessen turned out to be a small restaurant adjacent to the Mended Drum. It had regulation height ceilings(#), much to Angua's surprise, because of the fact that it used to be a meat factory.

There was still the dull red smell of meat that hit Angua hard as she walked through the doors. It didn't help her sinuses any either for the overwhelming smell of slaughter to be joined with the sour yellow smell of beer and stale gold. The various furniture--chipped and scared with remnants of bar fights passed--seemed...well...dwarfed by the eight foot ceilings.

Angua was used to the silence that came with her walking through the doors of a place where she was not recognized...and she was equally used to the bustle of introductions and welcomes that came with Carrot walking in behind her. Usually hostile dwarves, covered in various axes and scraps of mended armor, were laughing along happily in dwarf with the Captain who was making jokes that were completely lost on Angua's human (well...sort of) ears.

Yet, although Angua was definitely out of place here, she couldn't help but smile at Carrot's utter familiarity.

"See! There's...well there's bread. I'm sure they have something..." this was Carrot, pulling Angua abruptly out of her reflective musings. She rounded on the counter and looked at the menu, scratched on the wall in what was possibly Dwarf...but definitely not English.

Once again Angua felt the urge to cringe, but she couldn't bring herself to make that sweet smile on Carrot's face vanish.

"I just...I just don't think that...Well...I've never tried Dwarf bread." She finished finally. Carrot nodded knowingly.

"Yes...sometimes it may not agree with a person who's never eaten it before." Carrot nodded matter-of-factly, and Angua looked up, almost expecting there to be a hint of sarcasm written across Carrot's face. There was nothing, except for the slight wrinkles of understanding in his forehead. She couldn't help but be astonished...while reminding herself that she should be used to his absolute sincerity by now.

After a confused couple of moments where more than a few parties joined in, speaking frantic Dwarf, Angua ended up with tepid ketchup soup that she stared at for a moment before attempting to eat.

Carrot was chomping happily on fried rat drenched in a questionable new brownish sauce that promised itself to be even better than ketchup. Angua couldn't bring herself to ask if it had lived up to its promise.

"So, Constable-..."

"Angua."

"Right. Erm...Angua." She couldn't help noticing the lovely way his cheeks pinked when he said it. "Did you have a good day?"

Angua cleared her throat and looked up from her clumpy soup. Good gods...he actually wanted to know! It wasn't just a rhetorical question to fill the space. Bugger it if he didn't actually want to know how her bloody day had been...

Suddenly she found that she didn't know what to answer.

Finally she decided on: "No better than yesterday. Certainly less eventful but," she patted the lump in her pack, "I got a lovely Klathian vase out of it, eh?" That was when all hell broke loose.

Later on it was discovered that there had been a foreign dwarf in the restaurant, whittling away his evening hours by gorging on beer and food. He'd been too ornery to involve himself in any songs about gold, which was definitely a bad sign, and instead busied himself with listening to the conversation of others. Little did anyone know that he was listening for something very specific.

All that Angua knew was that before she had even finished her sentence, the seemingly calm atmosphere around them turned to one of noise and insanity.

There were axes flying everywhere, apparently from no direction whatsoever, some burying themselves in the wall over Carrot and Angua's table.

Carrot was on his feet, shouting something livid and erratic in Dwarf that was being lost on the shrieking crowd. Angua was on top of the table, trying to figure out where the bright yellow smell that had followed the axe originated.

She was about to Change so she might be able to take control of the situation, when she noticed something that was traveling towards her at an amazing speed.

"Oh shi-"Was all she could get out before the tankard clonked her right between her fiery eyes, and suddenly the floor was coming up to meet her staggeringly fast.

#there really was no document anywhere that decreed how high your ceilings had to be, the Patrician had made sure of that. However, there was a person—his real name is of no importance—that was hired out by architects to see if their ceilings were the correct height. If he didn't crack his head on the door frame then all systems were go. He was commonly known as Knobby Head Fred.

((I think that went well...except for my painful 'Knobby Fred' joke. lol! Sorry it's taken me so long! Please forgive me! The updates should be getting more frequent since I'm out of school for the summer #score#! Review pweeze!))