Éponine's Not-So-Abandoned Warehouse, Wednesday Afternoon

[filleauloup]

As it happened, she'd been out wandering around early this morning when the jalapeños swooped in. Even if she had been half lost in some disjointed fantasy about waking up one morning to find that the island had moved in the middle of the night to a spot in the Seine, snuggled up to Île de la Cité (Éponine's brain was a special place), it was

Comments

[locointhecoco]

You could probably hear Pinkie coming before you saw her. She was singing cheerfully, all about how even vegetables could be great friends. It was occasionally punctuated by the woosh of something catching fire. She trotted into view, her pink mane and tail ragged looking, with scorched gray edges, but otherwise totally unconcerned by the hoard of jalapenos around her.

Well. At least this time her ventures into making friends with All the Things hadn't lead to her getting eaten.

[filleauloup]

Oh, Éponine definitely heard her -- and was staring when she came into view, in an active, not-actually-sure-whether-to-believe-this-is-real way. It wasn't the singing, or the subject matter of the songs, or Pinkie herself that presented a challenge to plausibility, though.

"What in God's name are you doing?" she called through the window that was cracked open to approximately half the width of an average jalapeño.

[locointhecoco]

Pinkie looked up and waved excitedly. "Oh hi there!" she called. "I'm just making friends with the town's new residents!"

They weren't trying to eat everything in sight, so they were totally residents in her book, not pests.

One of the jalapenos huffed out a blast of flame that set Pinkie's ear smoldering. She didn't seem to notice.

[filleauloup]

Éponine made a strangled sort of noise. "Surely you're not trying to encourage them to stay! And by the way, d'you know you're on fire?"