Whatever about? [Javert snorts. The man is a veritable contradiction. His ramrod-straight posture suggests a stiffness, a certain haughty and righteous discomfort that emerges when he delves into the thick of a society, where he is perfectly aware that he does not quite belong. Yet his manner of speech and diction, as even and calm and cold as it is, sounds utterly zen bordering on lackadaisical. The words fly from his mouth without any impression that he has a firm handle on his tongue.] New job jitters? No, you are at ease with the students. Not the future. At worst that currently entails a match of chess, five dungeon trolls, three more wretched staff meetings on-the-quarter, and fifty cigarette packs. Manageable.