infinity train [brad+mav, 98]
Sept 29, 2024 14:30:15 GMT -5
Post by arx!! on Sept 29, 2024 14:30:15 GMT -5
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[attr="class","bradText2"]I am admittedly a little awestruck by all the fancy, shiny surfaces dotting the train cars as I —"Anything? Really!? Like- ANYTHING?"—as I sit back against cushions that strain and groan beneath me. I bounce a little; then I bounce A LOT when I realize just how much give the cushions have. I look to Mav, force my nerves to settle, my muscles to relax, and my entire body-and-soul to sit still as visions of a seven high stack of neon purple, glow-in-the-dark buttermilk pancakes shaped like bushbunnies hop through my head.
Everything here is unfamiliar. Except Mav. I think that's why I'm holding his hand and sitting so close in the first place. We'd never actually been this close before, but somehow—in some strange sort of dreamlike way that I just can't quite explain—he still feels like home. Familiar.
I don't know. Thinking has never been my strong suit.
"Tiny sandwiches? AND tiny cakes?! PIES!?" I exclaim over the fancy trays of small foods all stacked on various tiers of expensive looking plates. Even the tea cups seem more like thimbles in my hands. I gasp and fold the cup into Mav's palms. "This must mean-"
There really was only one explanation for such a wide array of tiny luxury and delicacies.
"Wait, can hamsters eat cake?"
And that was that this was the restaurant for famous circus hamsters. I wonder if they would sign my Canyon Jerboa Magic card with their little toes.
I reach for one sandwich and end up with an entire plate, offering the few I hadn't shoved in my mouth already to Mav. They were amazing, worthy of VIH and VIM guests alike. (That was Very Important Hammies and Very Important Mavericks.) I smile through a mouthful.
Maybe we could have a picnic after all.
Everything here is unfamiliar. Except Mav. I think that's why I'm holding his hand and sitting so close in the first place. We'd never actually been this close before, but somehow—in some strange sort of dreamlike way that I just can't quite explain—he still feels like home. Familiar.
I don't know. Thinking has never been my strong suit.
"Tiny sandwiches? AND tiny cakes?! PIES!?" I exclaim over the fancy trays of small foods all stacked on various tiers of expensive looking plates. Even the tea cups seem more like thimbles in my hands. I gasp and fold the cup into Mav's palms. "This must mean-"
There really was only one explanation for such a wide array of tiny luxury and delicacies.
"Wait, can hamsters eat cake?"
And that was that this was the restaurant for famous circus hamsters. I wonder if they would sign my Canyon Jerboa Magic card with their little toes.
I reach for one sandwich and end up with an entire plate, offering the few I hadn't shoved in my mouth already to Mav. They were amazing, worthy of VIH and VIM guests alike. (That was Very Important Hammies and Very Important Mavericks.) I smile through a mouthful.
Maybe we could have a picnic after all.
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