'A dwarf can go hundreds of miles with a cake like this in his pack,' Carrot went on.
'I bet he can,' said Colon gloomily, 'I bet all the time he'd be thinking, 'Bloody hell, I hope I can find something else to eat soon, otherwise it's the bloody cake again.' '
Carrot, to whom the word irony meant something to do with metal, picked up his pike and after a couple of impressive rebounds managed to cut the cake into approximately four slices.
'There we are,' he said cheerfully. 'One for each of us, and one for the captain.' He realized what he had said. 'Oh. Sorry.'
'Yes,' said Colon flatly.
They sat in silence for a moment.
'I liked him,' said Carrot. 'I'm sorry he's gone.'
There was some more silence, very similar to the earlier silence but even deeper and more furrowed with depression.
'I expect you'll be made captain now,' said Carrot.
Colon started. 'Me? I don't want to be captain! I can't do the thinking. It's not worth all that thinking, just for another nine dollars a month.'
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