The park, Friday afternoon
It was a perfectly lovely day out for April, much less February, and Jenkins had just received confirmation that the Librarians had, in fact, managed to dedjinnify Mr. Jones without more than a few interdimensional phone calls for help, so Jenkins was actually in a fairly wonderful mood this afternoon. Enough so that he'd decided to go out for a stroll and come feed the ducks.
Or -- the flamingoes. Alright.
"Now don't fight over it," Jenkins said, as he tossed a few hastily procured shrimp to the gangly pink birds. "There's plenty for everyone. You're lucky, you know. In some dimensions, they use you lot as croquet mallets."
[yep, that's right, Wonderland is canonically a real place in Jenkins' canon. Well. Sort of.
Open!]
Or -- the flamingoes. Alright.
"Now don't fight over it," Jenkins said, as he tossed a few hastily procured shrimp to the gangly pink birds. "There's plenty for everyone. You're lucky, you know. In some dimensions, they use you lot as croquet mallets."
[yep, that's right, Wonderland is canonically a real place in Jenkins' canon. Well. Sort of.
Open!]