Given everything up until now, it might be totally expected for the boy to stop and whirl back around, to gasp as if offended. Him? Skiving? Perish the thought! He is an upstanding and hand working member of the Inquisition, young man! How dare you drag his name through the mud with these wildly false accusations!

Instead, Bartimaeus turns back to him slowly. With the sock of an arm still wrapped about his neck, he takes a solid handful of seconds to assess little Not So Wooden Legged After All. And then he smiles, rather sharp indeed.

"And? What're you going to do about it?"