Trashed elbow

Dan in room 3, Adam in room 5. Earshot and eye contact, always dangerous. I didn't hear Adam's ice-breaker, but I figured it was "what's new?" or similar. His student pipes up with: "my lovely dog died."

My student is oblivious to this and has no idea why I crease up with laughter before she has even mustered a "hello." Looking up, tears in my eyes, I see Adam through the glass, struggling manfully to keep a straight face and doing his best to disguise sniggers as a cough.

Unsuccessfully.

This makes things worse, the effort of stifling my peals of mirth makes my ribs ache; the sight of me beating my fist against the desk over his bereaved student's shoulder does little for Adam's equanimity of demeanour. It wouldn't have been half so bad if she hadn't used the word "lovely."