Everyone has returned to their seats.
Vello to the window seat, David to his original seat beside Vello, Pierre-Louis beside him, then Gaius, in the aisle seat.
Breakfast has been delivered.
A tempting assortment of croissant, orange juice, yogurt, fruit, omelet, tomato, mushroom and sausage
This does look nice, says Pierre-Louis.
Except for the tomato, says Gaius.
I'll have your tomato, says Pierre-Louis, in exchange for your mushroom.
Where's my red drink? asks Terence.
There's an orange drink, says Gaius. Will that do?
Okay, says Terence. Is there a strawberry yogurt?
Would that be for the duck? asks Gaius.
No....yes, says Terence. Wait, no. Is there a chicken sausage?
As if I would want a chicken sausage, says Waca. It's insulting.
Insulting? says Gaius. How is a chicken sausage insulting?
You'd understand if you were a duck, says Waca.
No doubt, says Gaius. But you are a wooden duck,
So what, says Waca. Can't I have an opinion?
Of course, says Gaius. And who am I to talk, with my inflexible distrust of tomatoes?
May I ask why you distrust them? asks Waca.
Poison, says Gaius.
That theory has been disproved, says Pierre-Louis, helping himself to Gaius's tomato.
We'll see, says Gaius.
Where's the strawberry yogurt? asks Terence.
Gaius hands him the strawberry yogurt and the orange juice.
Let's share them, says Terence.
He and Waca are on the floor, under Gaius's knees.
Gaius can't see what they're doing.
To be fair, Waca isn't doing anything, only Terence.
Terence has taken the lids off the juice and the yogurt.
Perhaps he should ask for a spoon.
But then: ka-bump-bump-bump...
Turbulence.
Half the orange juice slops out.
Bad luck, says Waca. Should we ask for a cloth?
No need to, says Terence. It's soaked into my gecko shorts.
So it has. All the whites of the gecko eyes have turned orange.
Anyway it's lucky, says Terence. Now there's room in the orange juice for the yogurt.
My yogurt, says Waca.
We're sharing it, remember, says Terence. And the strawberry in the yogurt will turn the orange juice red, so I'll like it better.
Bet it doesn't, says Waca. And also, I bet it curdles.
What does that mean? asks Terence.
You'll see, says Waca.
Terence tips a dollop of yogurt into the orange juice.
It floats.
Waca was wrong.
Then it sinks.
Waca was still wrong.
It slowly curdles.
But by now, half of it is inside Terence.
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