. . .

“I —”

“I’ve been experimenting with biochemistry,” says Tom. He grabs Linus’ hand. The black dog growls. Tom throws the dog one of the sedative-laced dog biscuits he keeps on him at all times. The dog gulps it out of the air in what it considers to be a badass manner and goes back to growling and then, with a surprising lack of transition, to snoring. Tom drags Linus off. “I’ve been seeing if I can add parasitic snake DNA to soldier ants. But they always come out ordinary snake-ants! Oh, well. I’ll get that problem licked or I’m not a boy adventurer!”

“I — poetry —”

The antichrist gives up on talking and lets Tom Friedman drag him off.

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