"Yeah, I'm not going to touch that," I say with a nod to the apple, which has a single, almost artfully-placed bite out of one side. I really shouldn't laugh; this isn't a laughing matter, especially to Ravi, who was probably just hungry and opportunitistic. But I can't help it.

"You're like a furry Snow White," I say, and reach into my back pocket, where I'd stuffed a rag that morning. You never know when one might come in handy, like when you happen across your friend turned into a ferret and need to handle a possibly-poisoned piece of fruit. I cover the apple with the rag, wrap it carefully and stick it in my pocket.

"If you want a ride back to the lab, you better come on," I say as I reach to fetch the pile of clothes.