[Yeah. The last thing she wants is all that twitching insectoid attention on them. She gives a tight nod and scurries along after him, thankful when the revelry is safely muffled behind the hall door. She wonders if this will be the worst of it, eyeing the empty kitchen ahead with the baby clutched tight to her chest.
Haha. As if she could ever be that stupid. After all—]
W-weren't they eating people in there? [Like some scene from a messed up manga. This is why she hates them. And more poignantly, it's why she hates the train. Every waking day feels more like an absurdist fantasy beatdown than a therapeutic getaway.] If we get caught they'll dice us up and s-sprinkle us over a salad. Or slice us into sashimi...
[ugh ugh UGH!!!! Okay come on Toko. Do it for Her.
They slip through the door, silent as shadows. Toko haunts the back of him as he takes the lead, peering timidly past his head for a view. The coast still seems to be clear. Of living things, at least. Extravagant kitchen paraphernalia is a different matter.
Her nose wrinkles. They'll have to move very, very carefully. So many protruding pots and pans and gadgets. One fumble and there could be an ambush on them, whether from the clatter or the sudden cry of a waking baby.]
After you. [Whispered, very hush-hush. Toko dogs his steps every inch of the way, but can't shake the mounting sense of dread. The other shoe's about to drop, isn't it? She has a sixth sense for these things...]
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[Yeah. The last thing she wants is all that twitching insectoid attention on them. She gives a tight nod and scurries along after him, thankful when the revelry is safely muffled behind the hall door. She wonders if this will be the worst of it, eyeing the empty kitchen ahead with the baby clutched tight to her chest.
Haha. As if she could ever be that stupid. After all—]
W-weren't they eating people in there? [Like some scene from a messed up manga. This is why she hates them. And more poignantly, it's why she hates the train. Every waking day feels more like an absurdist fantasy beatdown than a therapeutic getaway.] If we get caught they'll dice us up and s-sprinkle us over a salad. Or slice us into sashimi...
[ugh ugh UGH!!!! Okay come on Toko. Do it for Her.
They slip through the door, silent as shadows. Toko haunts the back of him as he takes the lead, peering timidly past his head for a view. The coast still seems to be clear. Of living things, at least. Extravagant kitchen paraphernalia is a different matter.
Her nose wrinkles. They'll have to move very, very carefully. So many protruding pots and pans and gadgets. One fumble and there could be an ambush on them, whether from the clatter or the sudden cry of a waking baby.]
After you. [Whispered, very hush-hush. Toko dogs his steps every inch of the way, but can't shake the mounting sense of dread. The other shoe's about to drop, isn't it? She has a sixth sense for these things...]