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Finally, after hours and hours— okay, it wasn’t really that long, but it sure felt like it— of waiting, they’re in the tank, on their way to the plaza. Elodie’s riding shotgun since Enid— ahem, Dj Fireball is making some finishing touches to her playlist.
She leans up and hands Elodie her phone. “Whaddya think? I tried ta’ put some oldies in there for the oldies.”
“And some goodies for us kiddies?”
“That sounds rather inappropriate, Red,” Elodie shakes her head.
(Or Mister Gar hosts a Pride party.)
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