"Hey now--" Crunch, goes the foot which Bartimaeus makes no effort to move. Which hurts, and for a moment he's struck so dumb by the indignity of it all (Imagine! A pipsqueak like this one managing to illicit even the slightest twinge of pain!) that he forgets all about the arm flopping around at his side and how he's meant to be discreet about this kind of thing these days2.
His hands - the ones with the illusion of finger bones in them, thank you -, do tighten though. Call it an involuntary response. Sure, a better one might have been to absorb the spare arm and pretend like it never happened. But alas! The moment has passed.
Instead Bartimaeus twists just vigorously enough to flop at the other boy with the fleshy sock arm. "That's rich coming from someone with a wooden leg, isn't it?"
2. Although really, let's be honest. A badly manifested appendage on a djinni of his caliber isn't anything to be proud of even in the version of the world he's used to.
no subject
His hands - the ones with the illusion of finger bones in them, thank you -, do tighten though. Call it an involuntary response. Sure, a better one might have been to absorb the spare arm and pretend like it never happened. But alas! The moment has passed.
Instead Bartimaeus twists just vigorously enough to flop at the other boy with the fleshy sock arm. "That's rich coming from someone with a wooden leg, isn't it?"