It might be a sign of how shaken Paul is by the whole affair that he just wordlessly obeys Cain's instructions, jamming some of the white gooey sweets into his mouth without even the automatic grimace of disgust for the processed sugars.

"Let's hope she doesn't decide to test that," he says flatly at Cain, and starts to close his eyes until he catches movement at his peripheral vision. Fuck-- but no, it's Jenny, and Paul exhales.

"Spirit of scienfuckingtific enquiry?" he offers, and winces as Cain deals with the handkerchief. "...Cain... Jenny, you two met? If not... pretend I'm... saying horrible things about each of you to the other."