That's How Close They Were

Next morning, Gaius meets the microbiologists in the cafeteria.

Cristian has brought Daniel O'Connell, in the bottle.

What a relief! says Gaius. I thought I'd mislaid him.

No, says Cristian. He was with me.

Did he say anything further? asks Gaius.

SAY anything! says Rich. The spider? You're kidding!

Cristian shakes his head. No, of course not.

Daniel O'Connell grins at Gaius through the glass side of his bottle.

This spider has made a remarkable adjustment to our atmosphere, says Cristian.

Never underestimate an Irishman, says Daniel O'Connell.

Cristian and Rich hear these words from the mouth of Daniel O'Connell.

This needs further investigation, says Rich. Let's take him down to the labs.

Is there a chance of breakfast first? asks Gaius.

I'll look in the fridge, says Cristian.

He opens the fridge, and comes back with a bowl of lapte de pasare (cold birds' milk).

Leftovers from last night, says Cristian. Should be yummy.

It's too rich for Gaius's taste. Vanilla custard with meringue floating islands.

But what can he do? He is a guest of these people.

 He offers some to Daniel O'Connell.

Bliss and paradise! It's Daniel O'Connell's new favourite!

When they have eaten they head off to the underground labs where the Movile cave's physico-chemical conditions are reproduced, to give Gaius a tour, and to further probe Daniel O'Connell.

..........

Later that morning  Albertine, Proust and Arthur are cycling towards Neptun resort in Mangalia.

Not wanting a tour of the underground labs, Arthur has added himself to the Neptun expedition.

Proust, riding alongside Albertine, tries to gauge her feelings for Arthur.

All last night he lay on the floor behind Arthur, hearing Albertine breathing.

Uh-huh.

Once, she had hiccuped. A charming occurrence.

And then he had been obliged to turn his attention to Arthur, due to Arthur's hair irritating his nose.

That's how close they were.

In all, he had not slept well. And now, his excursion with Albertine to discover whether she has been lying about her aunt's name and her literary endeavours, is certain to be rendered less simple by the presence of Arthur, who it seems must again be her favourite, since she has re-bandaged his knees with the other half of the scarf she had tucked back into her knickers after the accident, and which he had hoped once again to find wrapped around the seat of his bicycle, for reasons of comfort, and which, though he hardly likes to admit it, would also touch on the erotic.

Proust sighs and keeps pedalling.

In Mangalia, the sea breezes are stronger, in the summer.

The three cyclists blow into Neptun.....