Camel Balls

The Jeep roars past the three cyclists, and catches up with the scooter.

They stop.

Rich! says Cristian. Why are you riding a scooter?

I was led to believe you were cycling, says Rich.

As if! says Cristian Lascu. Not with all this equipment! Still it was nice of you. Did you think I was one of those three back there?

Yes, says Rich Boden. I stopped for a chat with them. They're three microbiologists, heading to the Custodians meeting.

One had a scarf tied round his saddle, says Cristian.

He was a weird one, says Rich. Claimed to be a clown. And got the name wrong.

The name wrong? asks Cristian Lascu.

Of the Movile cave, says Rich. He called it Morvine.

Was he French perhaps? asks Cristian Lascu.

Yes, he had a French accent, says Rich. Perhaps that explains it. Called himself ....Proost.

Proost? says Cristian. Did he have intense eyes and a kiss curl?

Come to think of it, yes, says Rich. Why?

Then it was PROUST! says Cristian. What the hell's he doing here?

Cristian is suspicious.

......

Back down the road, Proust has stopped for a breather.

Gaius and Arthur stop too.

I admire your quick thinking, says Proust.

I am not renowned for it, says Gaius. Generally I...

Not you, says Proust. Arthur. He got us out of a very sticky situation.

Ah. Did he indeed? says Gaius. What sticky situation? Did I miss something?

You may have, says Proust. I believe you were the victim of a diversionary tactic.

Jumping Jupiter! says Gaius. What was it?

Grass, says Proust.

Marcel, says Gaius, I know I have admonished you in the past for prolixity, but grass is hardly an explanation....

You were looking at the grass, says Arthur. And you missed it.

I knew it! says Gaius. I was looking at the wrong grass. There was nothing unusual about it.

Exactly, says Proust. Meanwhile Arthur convinced Professor Boden that we are here on legitimate business. There is to be a Custodians meeting, to which we are expected.

Tch! Lies and diversionary tactics, says Gaius. Not my usual modus operandi.

Best to keep all options open, says Proust. By the way, is there any thing to snack on?

Not that I know of, says Gaius. Unless you eat grass.

Arthur thinks this would be a good time to produce a snack out of his pocket.

He reaches in and feels around in the general detritus.

What has he got in there?

Something he picked up at the station.

It rustles.

He draws out a packet of Camel Balls.