Using his front teeth like a rabbit, he bit the end off the candy bar. The taste of honey hit his tongue. Some kind of sweet syrup – not quite caramel, definitely not nougat – connected with the roof of his mouth and he had to lick it off.
“Unfortunately, it looks like we’re not going to make it to our destination, today. As you might imagine, this is due to spatial flux caused by the Proxima Centaurian spacecraft that was over London until just a few minutes ago.”
Outside the room where Father Bryce meets his first extraterrestrial stand twenty marines with face-masks and oily new guns. Politely, neither Father Bryce nor the space alien mentions this.