Because if there's any one location that will allow you to get a feel for the local scene, it's the shops.
The first stop had been the marketplace right in front of the Main Terminal. Tim had been quick to slink away from any commitment that might involve being in a room full of strangers, just as confused as he was, in the Terminal Room. It was obvious they had all only just been summoned through that portal-- through the gates. He wasn't going to get any answers from the disoriented people there.
And. Y'know. He felt kind of silly in his costume, kind of like he stuck out like a sore thumb, and that's one thing Robin doesn't want to do.
Outside had been waiting Gabumon. It's a weird name, and Tim supposes by now all monsters must end in -mon, and Gabumon hadn't been indifferent in meeting him, no. It was just that the way he acted was far too lax-- like they'd been buddies forever and a day and Gabumon was more than comfortable in taking up the couch in Tim's room to snooze without ever asking permission. That was metaphor, but Tim has the undying suspicion that it'll prove true. Gabumon wasn't proving to be any danger, despite being a bipedal lizard wearing a blue tiger pelt and with a horn on his head. He was also sticking too close for comfort, no matter where Tim went. There wasn't a minute when there was more than six inches separating the two bodies and, well. That's uncomfortable.
They were a silent pair. And that's fine by Tim. He's here to watch, to maybe overhear something about this being a big dastardly plot instead of an ill organized inter-dimensional rescue. It's hard to keep in the shadows when he has no working grapnel gun to swing to a rooftop, out of sight out of mind and all that. It being the middle of the day didn't help either. Colorful as he was, maybe he can pretend to be a Digimon, too. Infiltrate the natives and...
Gabumon touches a warm, scaly, furred hand (paw?) to Tim's. It snaps him out of whatever thoughts he was having, and he stares down at the sluggish Digimon, puzzled.
"I'm hungry," Gabumon says. Not pleading for food or a break or anything, just in a low lazy voice that's saying what the monster is feeling.
Tim wonders why he doesn't just go and find some food, then. They aren't really tied together, right?
(Why does thinking like that make him feel like a jerk?)
"Maybe we can find some clothes later," he replies. Gabumon touches his hand again and, oh. Oh, this is weird. Robin holds Gabumon's hand, and off they go in search for something to eat, wandering through stands and stalls in the streets.
Wandering the Marketplaces --prose or brackets, either works!
The first stop had been the marketplace right in front of the Main Terminal. Tim had been quick to slink away from any commitment that might involve being in a room full of strangers, just as confused as he was, in the Terminal Room. It was obvious they had all only just been summoned through that portal-- through the gates. He wasn't going to get any answers from the disoriented people there.
And. Y'know. He felt kind of silly in his costume, kind of like he stuck out like a sore thumb, and that's one thing Robin doesn't want to do.
Outside had been waiting Gabumon. It's a weird name, and Tim supposes by now all monsters must end in -mon, and Gabumon hadn't been indifferent in meeting him, no. It was just that the way he acted was far too lax-- like they'd been buddies forever and a day and Gabumon was more than comfortable in taking up the couch in Tim's room to snooze without ever asking permission. That was metaphor, but Tim has the undying suspicion that it'll prove true. Gabumon wasn't proving to be any danger, despite being a bipedal lizard wearing a blue tiger pelt and with a horn on his head. He was also sticking too close for comfort, no matter where Tim went. There wasn't a minute when there was more than six inches separating the two bodies and, well. That's uncomfortable.
They were a silent pair. And that's fine by Tim. He's here to watch, to maybe overhear something about this being a big dastardly plot instead of an ill organized inter-dimensional rescue. It's hard to keep in the shadows when he has no working grapnel gun to swing to a rooftop, out of sight out of mind and all that. It being the middle of the day didn't help either. Colorful as he was, maybe he can pretend to be a Digimon, too. Infiltrate the natives and...
Gabumon touches a warm, scaly, furred hand (paw?) to Tim's. It snaps him out of whatever thoughts he was having, and he stares down at the sluggish Digimon, puzzled.
"I'm hungry," Gabumon says. Not pleading for food or a break or anything, just in a low lazy voice that's saying what the monster is feeling.
Tim wonders why he doesn't just go and find some food, then. They aren't really tied together, right?
(Why does thinking like that make him feel like a jerk?)
"Maybe we can find some clothes later," he replies. Gabumon touches his hand again and, oh. Oh, this is weird. Robin holds Gabumon's hand, and off they go in search for something to eat, wandering through stands and stalls in the streets.