I did not expect that, says Gaius.
Nor did I, says the Head of Slugs. Have you ever played baseball?
No, says Gaius. Since when did baseball involve catching toes in a plastic container with a sea slug inside?
Now that you mention it, says the Head of Slugs, it never did. But you are good at catching.
I was pleased with that catch, says Gaius, but not with what just happened.
Was the sea slug damaged? asks the Head of Slugs.
Not at all, says Gaius, but one of Rusty's toes has split down the middle.
Glue will fix it, says the Head of Slugs. I may have some.
I always carry Roman fish glue, says Gaius. You can't beat it.
Come to my office, says the Head of Slugs. I shall examine your sea slug while you mend the toe.
They proceed to the office.
Gaius places the container on the Head of Slug's desk.
He fishes out the whole toe and two half toes.
Here, says the Head of Slugs. Use a towel.
Gaius dries the gold toes thoroughly.
He rummages in his back pack for the fish glue.
The Head of Slugs pulls out his sea slug book.
Aha, says the Head of Slugs. Just as I thought. A chlorotica.
Are you sure? asks Gaius, squeezing fish glue onto his finger.
Would you like a small piece of cardboard? asks the Head of Slugs.
No need, says Gaius.
He picks up the two halves of toe, dabs both halves with fish glue, and jams them together.
The thing is, says the Head of Slugs, the chlorotica is not thought to be able to regenerate a body.
Let me see, says Gaius.
He flicks though the slug book.
Ah! Perhaps it's an atroviridis. See how they look similar?
Indeed, says the Head of Slugs. Leave it with me. I'll do further tests to determine its species.
Thank you, says Gaius. I'll get back to Rusty and restore him to his former condition.
It's been a pleasure to meet you, says the Head of Slugs. I'll be in touch.
Likewise, says Gaius, rising.
Got the toes? asks the Head of Slugs.
Yes, he has, They are stuck to his fingers.
And the slug book will never be opened at Species of Elysia again.
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