[That is a sobering thought, and the foot abruptly stills. A brief silence reigns.]

A week, [Javert breathes dryly from off-screen. The bed mattress creaks, and there is a light rattle from the gift Naomi did bestow on him in his sleep.] A splitting migraine and a sore wrist for a week! Apparently the rest does me no good.

Tell me! Have I gotten the boot for my absence? Where is my pink slip?