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'They say the knight, who became a ghost and now haunts the world, holds in his hand the blood-stained sword that pierced his lover's breast,' Autor reads quietly.

He's taking notes on a play, The Wandering Knight, which the drama department asked Fakir to perform in. Naturally, most copies of the play have had their endings torn out, and no one knows who wrote it. Autor knows--or, rather, he has a theory.

Reviews of the play in its heyday litter the library table around the boy. He pecks away at the keyboard of the netbook Jay gave him. The boy types up words like pride and honor, wondering if his cause, too, is strong enough for him to cut down a lover without hesitation.

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Autor wonders idly if they'll see any deer, but they're probably going too fast and making too much of a ruckus to see any of them. He'll have to repay the girls for the ride by taking them on his carpet--once he gets it under his control again.

Vanellope's driving shoos that thought right out of his head, however, and he whoops again--softly, but still excited. He glances over to Miss Kuriyama, wondering if she's still hunkered down.

She did sit up a little at that.

"...I guess I shouldn't be surprised about the ice cream, but I still kind of am," she comments.

And then, "I'm glad you're enjoying your first car ride, Autor-senpai."

"Watch your heads!" Vanellope calls over her shoulder. They're coming up on a small stand of spruce trees with low-hanging branches.

"Oh, I am, thank you so much!" Autor says, turning to Mirai with a smile. He clings to the spoiler as they bounce along the road, and he ducks his head to miss the branches. "Does the ice cream ever melt, Vanellope?"

Mirai ducks as well before shaking off some powdery snow that made its way on her.

"Does the ice cream just sit there? Or does it snow down?"

"It melts sometimes during a race," Vanellope replies. "But it resets for the start of the next game."

Autor blinks a few times, and then ducks another branch. "I don't think I'll ever understand your world," the boy shouts to their driver. "How often do games happen? And does everything reset to a default?"

"Probably a lot?" Mirai guesses. "It doesn't take long to play a racing game."

"Depends on how many kids want to play," says Vanellope. "And the terrain always resets when the race ends."

"Do the kids drive your car for you?" Autor asks, wondering if this question is edging into territory he should not be in. He leans into a turn, and accidentally brushes Mirai's shoulder with his own. "A-Ah, sorry!"

That's actually a pretty good question, enough of one that Mirai barely even notices Autor brushing her shoulder. She glances over to him, wondering why he's apologizing, before listening for Vanellope's answer.

"If they pick me, yeah."

What's so weird about that?

"Huh," Autor says, blinking. He can't imagine giving up that kind of control. "Do your cars take any damage if they crash and burn?"

He ducks another branch, and accidentally edges his hand closer to Mirai when gripping the spoiler again.

Mirai grips the spoiler tighter, possibly getting Autor's fingers in the process. "Oh, sorry!" she calls out to him.

"Depends on how hard the crash is."

Speaking of which, she's going a lot faster than one really should be going for such a rough road.

There are a great many bumps, and it's on one of these that Autor jerks his hand up and nearly goes flying. He clings to the spoiler as soon as he can, possibly grabbing Mirai back. "S-Sorry," he gasps out, blush quickly traveling from his roots to his collarbone.

He forces his eyes forward. "Are we supposed to be going this fast?"

"President von Schweetz, if you keep going this fast, it's going to bruise Autor-senpai's butt!" Mirai calls out with all the maturity she possesses.

"Oh, fine. Wimp," Vanellope mutters, but she does slow down a bit.

Edited (coding fail) 2015-01-15 04:52 (UTC)

Autor has no idea how to respond to the rather sweet thought that Miss Kuriyama cares about his butt. He could assure her that it's fine, really, and there's no need to worry--but she's right, actually. He could ask about hers--no. No. Absolutely not. That is the dumbest of dumb ideas.

He'd cover his face in embarrassment, but that would require letting go of the spoiler, and he doesn't know if it's worth that. Frankly, it's hilarious on some level that she would phrase her concern that way, and a large part of Autor has to keep from sniggering, because deep down he's really twelve.

Then Vanellope slows down, and Autor nods to Mirai. "Thanks," he says, and hopes that's enough. "Vanellope, what fuel does this run on? Sugar?"

Mirai's a little pink from it herself. Or from the cold biting her cheeks. She fidgets a little in her spot, sore from the ride herself.

"Is it icing or syrup or something? Most of this is cake, right?" she asks. "Or do all the cars take the same fuel no matter what they're made of?"

"It runs on gasoline. Duh." She rolls her eyes. "All cars run on gasoline."

Game developers can be startlingly unimaginative sometimes.

Autor knows only enough about cars to know that the engine makes a series of explosions when it consumes the gasoline. He's kind of surprised this car, being made of pastries and candy, doesn't catch on fire.

But then again, it's game logic, which he doesn't understand anyway. Frankly, he's much more concerned at this point about the bruises on his butt.

"Do you ever run out on the track?"

"I don't think that's usually how it works," Mirai says.

"I guess you could, if you were dumb enough to not gas up first."

Say, they're getting pretty high up the mountain...

"That doesn't reset?" Autor asks, and glances over his shoulder--and the edge of the road--to the valley below. He turns his head to check on Mirai, wondering if they're too high for her.