All this food smells incredible. That's the strangest part. Smell and taste ought to be tied, he thinks - usually they are. Can't smell something? Can't taste it either. Here, he's drawn by the incredible aroma of all those addictive carnival treats, but as he bites into a crisp, juicy ear of grilled corn, he ends up just looking a little dejected.
"How about yours, how's that?" he asks, turning instead to whoever is nearby. Maybe it looks good, or maybe it just looks really, really questionable. Maybe he'll even be willing to try some of the weirder stuff here if he can't even taste it.
2. bumper cars!!
No, Rosinante can't fit into one of these.
He absolutely does not care. His face lights up as soon as he sees them and he trots over, smile wide. "Cars! Those are cars, right? People keep talking about those."
They're not quite like the gutted rusty contraptions in the courtyard, but they have a similar shape and a steering wheel and that's good enough for him. When they come to a stop, he immediately goes to put his feet into the space below the wheel and just sit on top of the back of the car with his hands way down by his calves and his knees bent tight to fit.
"C'mon, get in one, I'll race you!" Around... the small arena, he supposes. No, he can see the point is to bump into each other and he's sure that will happen too.
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All this food smells incredible. That's the strangest part. Smell and taste ought to be tied, he thinks - usually they are. Can't smell something? Can't taste it either. Here, he's drawn by the incredible aroma of all those addictive carnival treats, but as he bites into a crisp, juicy ear of grilled corn, he ends up just looking a little dejected.
"How about yours, how's that?" he asks, turning instead to whoever is nearby. Maybe it looks good, or maybe it just looks really, really questionable. Maybe he'll even be willing to try some of the weirder stuff here if he can't even taste it.
2. bumper cars!!
No, Rosinante can't fit into one of these.
He absolutely does not care. His face lights up as soon as he sees them and he trots over, smile wide. "Cars! Those are cars, right? People keep talking about those."
They're not quite like the gutted rusty contraptions in the courtyard, but they have a similar shape and a steering wheel and that's good enough for him. When they come to a stop, he immediately goes to put his feet into the space below the wheel and just sit on top of the back of the car with his hands way down by his calves and his knees bent tight to fit.
"C'mon, get in one, I'll race you!" Around... the small arena, he supposes. No, he can see the point is to bump into each other and he's sure that will happen too.