[The feeling is mutual, and exacerbated by the fact that Ford is death tolling, death tolling because of Bill (albeit indirectly), not to mention fresh from a murder nightmare. He fixes Bill with a flat, resentful look. He agrees: killing Bill would be much easier, and he'd only have to conpartmantalize a little bit of bad feeling about it. He would also settle for a good punch.]

What do you want me to do, summon a bunch of zombies? That'll work great on a ship with no corpses!

[Ford pinches his nose and takes a deep breath. Okay, okay. He's got to calm down and think about this. Bill's offering magic lessons, and from the sounds of it, it'll be useful. That's good: he might not care so much about death itself, but the toll is something he'd rather avoid.]

All right! I accept. I'll learn whatever it is you want to teach me. I could use more magic that doesn't take twenty minutes of preparation and make a mess of the floor.