Bonnie was typically quite in tune to the world around him. He usually liked to have all his senses honed in on what was happening. This was not one of those times.

The purple-haired man was laying on a park bench, eyes closed, fingers interlocked behind his head. He was listening intently to Foxy's story, as Foxy was determined to let Bonnie hear the ending. His ears also picked up the faint sound of Foxy's shoes slapping against the ground as he paced back and forth on the concrete. He heard the gentle lull of bugs in the darkness, smelled that indescribable smell that seemed to only come at night.

"... the end." He felt his head being lifted up. Well that was new. He heard a faint sound of wood scraping, followed by the feeling of faint warmth. He opened his eyes and realized he was now laying with his head on Foxy's lap.

"... what are you doing?"

"Just... sittin' with ye."

"No more places you're thinking of, um... plundering? Or whatever it is pirates do?"

That elicited a small chuckle. "Nope. Can't really think of anyplace else, lad."

Bonnie made a 'tsk' sound. "What a shame. You're... what, 25-ish? You've only been adventuring for an hour, and already you're washed up."

Foxy laughed out loud. "I am not washed up. Ye, on the other hand, are 25-ish and stuck playing the guitar in a kiddie band."

"... touché. So, should we... head back?"

"What? O' course not! We've only just begun here!"

"Then where do we go?"

"No clue."