champagne, cocaine, gasoline; and most things in between
”That sounds good to me.” Mateo grins, despite not having the slightest indication of what under five miles per hour looks or feels like. Instead, standing beside his friend and feeling the sort of cheerful that will absolutely evaporate within minutes of doing actual exercise, the botanist sets off and keeps his pace even and matched to Ever’s, so the other man might not have to worry about the difference in the sound of their footfalls on top of everything else.
They make their circuit around the Plaza easily enough - the street is mostly empty and there are no crowds or busy clutters of people bunched at the stalls yet - and soon enough the exit towards the Celestine is coming up on them. Of course, given that they have both established that Mateo is not a runner, already the botanist can feel the muscles in his legs start to burn. Determined to push past it though, he offers an encouraging smile to Ever and powers ahead.
”Perhaps we will see some different creatures because of the time of day,” he suggests, referring to the enclosures they’ll run past.
They make their circuit around the Plaza easily enough - the street is mostly empty and there are no crowds or busy clutters of people bunched at the stalls yet - and soon enough the exit towards the Celestine is coming up on them. Of course, given that they have both established that Mateo is not a runner, already the botanist can feel the muscles in his legs start to burn. Determined to push past it though, he offers an encouraging smile to Ever and powers ahead.
”Perhaps we will see some different creatures because of the time of day,” he suggests, referring to the enclosures they’ll run past.
