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2017-05-10 05:25 pm (UTC)
Day 92 then!
Snake likes the menagerie. It's quiet. It's easy. Admittedly some of the creatures are weird, but then again so is everything about the carnival. He's gotten used to his pants-leg being grabbed by a crate of hands (scattering meal worms across it is enough to make them let go) or occasionally being caressed by a wayward tentacle (don't look), and the legged snake is always a pleasure, always has gossip.
He was chatting with the latter creature in a low susurrus of hisses when Ginko made his way into the room. Snake tries not to look guilty, tossing a dead but warm rat into the already-pudgy animal's enclosure before setting it back down. His own snakes are also eating, some of them in their own cages, others who are shyer in covered 5-gallon buckets. Emily is lapping up animal blood in one of the tanks, and hisses low at Ginko.
"'Hello. We're doing well.' says Emily." Snake looks... tired. It's hard to be awake in the daytime, but he manages. There's an umbrella leaning against the door, evidence of how he got here.
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