continued from ( x ) with @sonofneverland
The cricket jumps just about a foot in the air, and teeters on the railing when he lands, arms pinwheeling to maintain some semblance of balance. The Village Haus’ guests usually only have one thing on their mind - food - and Jiminy more or less blends in as a setpiece. His peoplewatching usually goes uninterrupted. But he spins on a heel and rather quickly recognizes Peter, relaxing visibly once he does. No autographs today. They’re a real workout, holding those pens.
“What brings me out here?” He echoes, and jabs an umbrella upwards towards the painted decals and intricate carvings lining the rafters from top to bottom. The theming is unmistakable. “Think I oughta be askin’ you! It’s my restaurant.”
Can’t fault a fella for liking to go in and take an occasional look at the murals of himself. Really, what else is he going to do with his time? All the rides have height requirements. He’d remind Pete that his meet-and-greets are across the street, but a glance at the crutches tells him those aren’t really in the cards for the afternoon.
“Not doin’ the parade today, I take it. Probably a good idea. Thinkin’ it’s gonna rain through half of it.” Crickets are excellent at predicting the weather. Not Jiminy, but. You know. The other crickets. Normal ones. Jiminy’s just good at spreading their gossip.