milliways_bar | (no subject)

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When the front door opens this evening, it doesn't swing sideways on its hinges. Instead, it slides upward, bending along invisible seams when it reaches the ceiling. Kind of like a garage door.

Thus, it shouldn't be too terribly surprising when a car comes through it.

Well, it's sort of a car and sort of not. It's a lot smaller than your average car, for one thing--sized for a child rather than an adult. Also, while it's shaped roughly like a Formula 1 racing car, it appears to be made out of chocolate-frosted yellow cake and decorated with assorted oversized candies. By all rights, it shouldn't be mobile at all, but here it is, rolling in like any other motor vehicle that happened to be driven in through the front door of a bar.

Maybe the little girl in the driver's seat can explain how that's possible.

[ooc: Open until it scrolls!]

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Finvarra, being what he is and being how old he is, has seen an awful lot of strange things.

He has not sen anything like that car Vanellope is driving, though. Which isn't to say he finds it distasteful; on the contrary, the pure childish joy of being able to actually drive a candy car would thrill quite a few of the children-fae that live with him. He chuckles at it, hanging from one of the rafter beams by his knees.

Vanellope grins up at him. "You like?"

"I do," he laughs. "Imaginative, that. We've nothing like it where I'm from."

"Sucks to be you, then."

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," he says, vanishing and appearing directly beside her little car, hands clasped behind his back. "Being a king has its perks."