"And you know, I do believe Paras understands you!" he whispers excitedly. He is whispering because terrifically important moments like these are easily frightened off by noise!

"Hey Paras, click twice if you're a space alien!"

"Para par?"

"I guess if this isn't Earth that makes us the space aliens."

"So it does! But I believe you're onto something."

Hmm, fundamentals...
"Paras, can you understand me? Clack twice if you can."

. . . Click clack.

In-teresting.

"Oh, well done, thank you! And could you oblige me with three? Now three clacks if you understand me, please?"

Click click clack. Click.

"I'm not sure I caught that, actually. I meant to ask for three clacks, please—"

Gloves off for the moment.

"—like this?" Clap, clap, clap. Three deliberate little claps by way of demonstration.

Click click click!

"Good!" And surprisingly co-operative for what is ostensibly a wild animal. A humble bug, even.

He'll toss Paras a bit of mushroom as a reward, although he wishes he had a more inspiring treat—ah, for good measure, he'll bite off a bit of apple and experimentally toss that over as well.

The mushroom is more exciting but the apple does also get examined and then munched.

"You're a smart little critter, Paras."

"And how are you at patterns?"

Clap-clap. Clap. Clap-clap-clap.

The Paras looks a little overwhelmed but imitates the cadence of the last three claps successfully.

"And bravo to you, my dear bug! You've got quite the knack for clack!"

And that sportingly co-operative attitude as well! So very unusual to see in the wild— though perhaps not all that common in civilization either, he supposes. Oh, but he should ponder this strangely loyal bug later—his companions are looking rather flushed and flopped at the moment.

"Well, I daresay all this valor has earned us some refreshment," announces Mr. Wonka. "There's a stream, I'm fairly positive, down that way if we wish to explore its merits. What do you think?" He twinkles at the two of them.

Oh right, water. Even if it's too gross to drink he can at least get some of the sweat off himself. . . . And maybe drink it anyway, he's really thirsty now that he's thinking about it. "Good idea."

The stream isn't gross at all, really. It's fast and cool and clear and the bottom is covered in smooth round stones. 

Slorpa slorpp.

With a nod to Kevin, Mr. Wonka will carefully set aside his coat and boots and stockings and swish his little legs in the clear sparkling waters.

The lacy trees shine greenly around him. Ah, the great outdoors.

Kevin also ditches his shoes and socks and wades in. He drinks some water out of cupped hands, finds it delicious, and drinks more. What a pretty place. 

A glint of orange-gold flashes by under the water.

Ooh, anything that might endanger the toes? Or perhaps ornament the natural beauty of the stream?

Definitely that second thing! 

Possibly also the first thing. Kevin's knee is being examined.

It's a decently sized fish. Like, not big as fish go, but if you saw a housecat that big you'd be like "wow, that's an absolute unit". 

Woah. 

He's gonna try to touch it.