"I'm fine, I'm fine," Tarantulas grumbles, as he allows César to take some of his weight and lead him inside. He is very much not; some of his spider legs are dragging on the ground, and when they finally reach a chair he doesn't so much sit down as collapse, like a building slated for demolition.

"I just overdid it a little," he insists, still wheezing. "Erm. Could I perhaps have a glass of water?"

The baby is, at least, still safe in her sling. She has a toy spider, it's legs already looking quite battered and worn; the reason why is immediately apparent, as she's sucking on one of its legs energetically.