It’s a bit of a hassle, but The King manages to track down a place on the Boardwalk that sells decent cheese tea. Hardly his favorite beverage, but it is MK’s, so he feels compelled to take it anyway. Maybe it’s homesickness or something.

And it’s really not bad, though Monkey King feels he’d enjoy it more if his personal space was respected. As in, if there wasn’t a stranger sitting at the same little table as him, staring him down way too intently. He didn’t sense danger from her (not to himself at least) but it was still a little annoying.

Several people had complimented her on her outfit for a change, which was nice; finally some recognition in this bizarre city. Or it was nice, until she realised people were calling it a costume and the ‘edgy look was good, even if over done. What are you, a vampire or something?’

Festive nonsense, it appeared. Well she hoped to have no part in it but it already seemed to late for that.

“Remind me again; have you simply changed your hair or is this something else?”