They're a matched set in raggedness, then, at least, although the considerable more responsibility Martel has is worse -- nobody cares what Wolfgang does, really, to his advantage.

Not expecting to hear his name called, he does what can only be described as an internal flail -- outwardly, he kind of jerks, he's awfully twitchy -- and interrupts whatever motion he was doing halfway to turn around. It's a wonder, since he's all elbows and knees, that he isn't constantly tripping over himself.

(He was about to put on his hat, actually. He has some strange old-fashioned habits; he takes his hat off when he comes indoors.)

With the air of someone who totally meant to do that, he says, casually, "Ah, yes?" He is as graceful as a gazelle. Also, Martel scares him a little.