They could hear Sir Morris preparing himself. He took a deep breath before asking the next question.
"And the bad news?"
"Fadda Bing is dead."
"What!?" The armchair creaked violently. "Dead? How?"
"Don't know. He just kinda went up in a chemical reaction with lots of smoke and blood and stuff."
"How perfectly dreadful! And, what, you were witnesses to this?"
"The smoky and messy bit, yes," Rivqua said.
"You poor things."
"Yup, the image will stay with me," Zana said, "probably until day after tomorrow."
"The police are investigating the incident," Rivqua said. "It is 'averagely suspicious' according to them. I suppose they mean by Vague-Ass standards."
Sir Morris made a slow whistling noise.
"I'm truly shocked to hear this. Fadda Bing was a good friend. I can't recall exactly to whom right now. But it's still pretty tragic. Wait! What about the show? This won't change anything will it? Promotion's been running for weeks! The Grand's spared no expense! So I'm told. The town's a-buzz with the Blonde Plutoz! Isn't it?"
"I did see a flyer in the spaceport bathrooms," said Rivqua.
"The good news is," said Zana, "we're still on."
"Splendid!"
Rivqua checked her watch. "Speaking of which, we should head on down to the ballroom. Truck will be anxious to start setting up with the Bandroids."
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