It's looking at my lizards, says Rusty.
Yes, it is, says Bertille. It's got its face right up to the side of the container.
That means it thinks my shorts are the coolest, says Rusty.
Yours are closer, says Terence.
Yours are faded, says Rusty.
I could fix that if you like, says Bertille. I could do outlines round the geckoes.
No time! says Mathilde. We're almost there.
Almost there, says Terence to the elysia. Have you started your body yet?
The elysia performs an upside down turn.
No, says Terence. You haven't.
Maybe it's confused, says Bertille. Maybe it doesn't know what it's meant to look like.
You could draw it a picture, says Terence.
Okay, says Bertille. Has anyone got any paper?
No need, says Gaius. I have a rough sketch in my notebook.
He opens his notebook at the page on which he roughly sketched the elysia, before its decapitaion.
Of course this is only in pencil, says Gaius. The body was green, with red spots.
He holds it up to the side of the container.
The elysia remembers.
O I was lovely! I could enfold my own body!
It feels something tingle, in the neck region.
Here we are! says Jean-Claude, pulling up in the Oceanopolis car park, at Port de Plaisance.
Everyone gets out.
They join the queue to buy tickets.
It's 22.50 euro for adults and 13.50 for children.
Jean-Claude pays for his family, and Rusty.
They go in.
Gaius pays for himself and Terence.
What's in the container? asks the ticket seller.
The living head of an elysia, says Gaius.
Desolé, says the ticket seller. You can't take an unauthorised sea creature into Oceanopolis.
That is a pity, says Gaius. But I don't want to stand on anyone's toes. I shall leave it with you, and return for it when I find someone with the proper authority.
D'accord, says the ticket seller. Et bonne chance avec ça.
She takes the container, places it on a low shelf behind her, and continues selling tickets.
The elysia is happy. It now has a mental picture of its lateral parapodia. And an idea of the colour.
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