He grinned as he listened to Libbs, absorbing the knowledge she shared even if it didn't always make sense. He knew what a foot was, and he had a general idea of how fast horses could go, though he still wasn't sure what the difference had to do with the number of horses involved, or how one hundred horses were faster than one. "Isn't 'fuel' just another word for food, though?" he asked curiously. It certainly sounded like the cars were getting fed, even if they could eat faster than a horse, and perhaps avoided the danger of colick.
Makes, models, and interstates were words that desperately needed context, and the thought of traveling two hundred miles an hour sounded, frankly, both unhealthy and dangerous. Even ninety miles an hour seemed like it would be courting a great deal of danger. His many questions, however, were tucked away for another time, as he sensed that pursuing them would only drag them off into distant tangents that they'd never find their way back from.
'Gano' brought an oddly youthful smile to his face, childhood memories stirred up with bittersweet nostalgia for a moment before he focused on her description of the ball. "Rubber and filled with air? How big is it, and what color?" He had an image forming in his mind but it was still fuzzy, and there was a strange itching deep inside his ribcage, his magic tingling with an uncomfortable discordance, like a guitar fret that didn't have enough space between the strings. "Ah, and... the goal is to get the ball into the basket?" He guessed, putting together the elegant simplicity of the name 'basketball' in a way that suddenly made perfect sense. "First one to get it in wins?"
Makes, models, and interstates were words that desperately needed context, and the thought of traveling two hundred miles an hour sounded, frankly, both unhealthy and dangerous. Even ninety miles an hour seemed like it would be courting a great deal of danger. His many questions, however, were tucked away for another time, as he sensed that pursuing them would only drag them off into distant tangents that they'd never find their way back from.
'Gano' brought an oddly youthful smile to his face, childhood memories stirred up with bittersweet nostalgia for a moment before he focused on her description of the ball. "Rubber and filled with air? How big is it, and what color?" He had an image forming in his mind but it was still fuzzy, and there was a strange itching deep inside his ribcage, his magic tingling with an uncomfortable discordance, like a guitar fret that didn't have enough space between the strings. "Ah, and... the goal is to get the ball into the basket?" He guessed, putting together the elegant simplicity of the name 'basketball' in a way that suddenly made perfect sense. "First one to get it in wins?"
