Making Money (Discworld, #36; Industrial Revolution, #5; Moist von Lipwig, #2)

by Terry Pratchett

wore black, not a forward color at all, but nevertheless his presence was like a lead weight on a rubber sheet. It distorted the space around it. People didn’t immediately see him, but they sensed his presence.

Gravitas

“I can see that you might not find it very funny, Mr. Bent,” he said. “I am pleased to say I find nothing funny, sir,” Bent replied as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “I have no sense of humor whatsoever. None at all. It has been proven by phrenology. I have Nichtlachen-Keinwortz syndrome, which for some curious reason is considered a lamentable affliction.

“Seriously, I think this is an opportunity for me to do something big and important for my adopted city,” said Moist, in his sincere voice. “That’s your sincere voice,” she said. “Well, I’m being sincere,” said Moist.

“I’m an Igor, thur. We don’t athk quethtionth.” “Really? Why not?” “I don’t know, thur. I didn’t athk.”

“Gold,” said Moist, his voice leaden.