"Tommy," Wilbur whispered, slightly shaking the boy with his free hand. "Toms."

With a whine, the boy followed his typical routine- Asking for 5 more minutes. He can't help it, okay? He's tired.

"Normally, I'd let you. But the train stopped. Unless you're planning on becoming a freight hopper, get up." Wilbur explained, hoping the boy would get up, considering his stance on trains.

Tommy whined. "Would you let me be a freight hopper?"

"No. So, get up."

Eventually, Wilbur was able to persuade the boy to get up. Not only that, as the fatigue faded, he did in fact realize he was on a train and that was enough to make him drag his lanky limbs upright, still holding onto Wilbur's hand.

The two were briefly stopped by Charlie-- green skin, big smile and all-- asking them how the ride was. Wilbur had to answer briefly to stop Tommy from giving an entire essay on why trains are the bane of his existence, and thus he answered with a small "It was nice, thank you." Before heading out.

Wilbur was quick to notice the air quality. Las Nevadas was a much more man-made area, it had an industrial quality that made the air thick-- making it feel as though the air was unable to reach his lungs. It certainly wasn't the worst he'd experienced- living in L'manberg for a large section of his life meant he had built up some semblance of a tolerance for polluted air, but it didn't stop it from being notable.

The train station they found themselves in was a far more modern, clean area, deeply contrasting with the cobblestone and bricks used in the previous one of which they'd used to get here. Tommy took note of it, mesmerized by the almost futuristic vibe of the station, taking in the look of the walls, the floor, the roof- all made of what Tommy thinks to be iron and...gold? Maybe? Regardless, it was beautiful. Wilbur, however, just found it unsettling.

"Am I allowed to actually stand on this floor?" Tommy asked, in complete disbelief, looking at the tiles. "No, no, I don't think I am."

"You are," Wilbur starts, "Just because it's expensive doesn't mean it's good. I preferred the other one."

"Wilbur. Wilbur, it's gold, the whole thing- Iron an' gold. Holy shit."

"It's so lifeless."

"It's so amazing."

"It's boring."

"It's enchanting."

Wilbur hated it. With every inch of his body, he hated it. Wilbur hated how cold it felt. Industrial, lifeless, and cold.

"Come on Wilbur! We gotta- Is the rest of 'Nevadas like this?"

Hm.

"Yeah, it's just- that kind of place."

Wilbur guided Tommy through the hoard of people walking around the station- Everyone looked so classy, and rich , and Tommy was equally terrified and infatuated with it. Wilbur wishes he was somewhere homely, right now.

"So, like- Wilbur, what do you do when you travel?" Tommy asks, weaving around the people filling the station.

"Travel."

" Duh . Like, before I came and graced your presence, because that's absolutely what I did--"

"I beg to differ-"

"-- That's absolutely what I did," Tommy clarifies, "What did you do when you arrived at places and stuff?"

"Just...walk. Take in everything. Enjoy being away."

"Away?"

"Away."

"Okay, vague man."

"You asked."

"For an answer, not some angsty vague dialogue."

Wilbur gives up.

Wilbur giving up is becoming a pattern since having met Tommy.

The two walked out of the station, still holding onto Tommy's hand. Wilbur realizes, unlike snowchester- Tommy could get very lost if Wilbur doesn't keep a very sharp eye on him. Not that Wilbur cares, of course, he'd just feel bad being responsible for some kid getting lost into such a big city.

Tommy's mouth opens wide, agape, staring at the towers and buildings. They're so tall, and so terrifying, and so wonderful, and so horrific, and so interesting, and so threatening, and- so new. There's a large sign, bright and fueled with color, saying Welcome to Las Nevadas!, a casino perched beside it, towering and powerful. There's also a Las Nevadas brand restaurant, and a theater, and a hotel, that Tommy assumes they'll be staying in.

Tommy had never been to a city before- certainly nothing like this. Everything was so tall, Tommy felt practically infinitesimal in comparison to it all. There were taxis and buses driving around, there were people everywhere, and my god, Tommy might just faint, this was all so overwhelming.

"So, what's our mission, bossman?" Tommy turns to Wilbur, smiling ear to ear. "We got a day ahead of us or what? Are you going to leave me to go gamble? Are you a gambly' guy, Wilbur?"

"No, no I'm not."

"I reckon I'd be lucky if I tried it."

"No."

Tommy gasps, offended. "I am twenty. If I wish to waste money to gamble and do gambly things, I will."

"I'd rather buy you this entire city then let you gamble. Ever," Wilbur admits, staring at the boy. Tommy has little concept of money. He is not equipped to gamble, quite literally ever. "And, no, you're not twenty."

"...Will you buy me this entire c-"

" No."

"Wilbur. Holy shit. An arcade." Tommy gapes.

"Yeah, that's an arcade."

"Please. Please can we go. Holy shit. Holy shit. Please Wilbur. I have a disease. It's called Never-Been-To-An-Arcade-Itis. If I do not go I will die. It's true. I regularly tell people to donate $2 a month so I can live with this disease. You have the opportunity to cure me Wilbur. Please-"

"Shut up, god, we can go."

Tommy cheers.

Wilbur checks his funds.

Wilbur sobs, knowing what is about to come.

"Can't we get food first?"

"Fun waits for nothing, Wilbur."

Wilbur has let himself be pursuaded and subsequently pulled around like a dog on a leash by a fucking child.

How, you ask?

Because Tommy is- He's persuasive, and, Wilbur doesn't think he even realizes how persuasive he is. He'll stare at you and he'll smile and he'll look so innocently happy over the most inconsequential things like the lights on the arcade door and you just can't say no to that face of his. Wilbur looks down at the boy only to see these wide blue eyes accompanied by the widest and most genuine smile he's ever seen and, what else could he do? Really? How can you say no to a little blonde boy practically shaking with anticipation for a fucking arcade, something every child should be used to? He can't.

And because of this, Tommy is dragging him around- machine to machine, wanting to try everything and anything he can.

Wilbur stares at Tommy, staring up and marvelling at the fluorescent neon lights. He's trying to take it all in, overwhelmed and overjoyed. He just...can't stop smiling.

Yeah.

He really just can't say no to that face.

Even if his funds are going to be begging no--

That's a problem for later.

Wilbur uses 40 golden ingots in exchange for 50 tokens- it was a deal, 10 extra tokens, to Tommy's delight.

"50 tokens," Wilbur explains, "That's enough for either 5 two player games, 5 per player, orrr.... a shit-ton of crane games."

Tommy isn't listening.

Tommy has, instead, walked off to a game, and Wilbur breathes a sigh of relief upon finding the young boy with relative ease.

(Thank fuck for Wilbur being as tall as he is. He can see over everyone's heads well enough to always spot the familiar little tuft of blonde hair no matter where he is.)

The game Tommy had wondered off to was a basket ball game of all things- Nevadas Dunk, it was called.

"Wilbur, oh my god, I can totally do this." Tommy exclaimed, grasping one of the basket balls in his hands. He puts in the tokens to the machine and gets ready to throw. "I hope the ladies are watching."

Wilbur snorts.

"Sure they are, Toms."

The nickname. Fuck, the nickname.

Tommy's throw fails imminently, the ball falling onto his head with a small thump.

"You suck. You suck so much and I hate you."

Wilbur laughs. He can't stop laughing. He's, infact, never laughed this hard in what feels to be years.

"Stop laughing! You ruined it! Fuck you! You- You just, I could've totally-"

Wilbur just keeps laughing.

Tommy scowls, turning back to the machine. He grabs the basket balls and begins throwing again, doing surprisingly well. Tommy is quite short and thus his method of throwing requires far more momentum- he bends his knees for a split second before bouncing upwards, releasing his grip on the ball. He looks...He looks sort of like a cat, or a bunny, the way his body flings upwards in a spring-esque fashion. And his methods are almost entirely successful, and it provides the two a decent amount of tickets.

It's clear it took alot of effort with the boy having to put his whole body into jumping, as by the end of it Tommy is panting, looking back at Wilbur.

"See, dick'ead? I'm so good at this."

"You are, you are."

"I'd like to see you try, old bag." Tommy huffs.

And Wilbur does.

Wilbur...Well, Wilbur is tall. And the arcade machine is made for teenagers, roughly Tommy's height, to be fun and equally challenging. Wilbur, with his height- It makes the game not much of a challenge.

Wilbur stands, hunched over slightly, even, and simply grabs the basket balls as they roll to him, throwing them up without even the smallest bit of strain, almost all of them easily landing through the hoop. Tommy scowls even louder, when he sees the two fucking tied scores.

"Are you kidding me!? We- You-" Tommy tries to speak, ending his sentence in a mature and eloquent...whine.

Wilbur just- he just starts laughing again, looking at the boy pout, his cheeks puffing out and reddened. It's adorable. And it's hilarious.

"Look on the bright side, Toms," Wilbur interrupts himself with another chuckle, "We got tickets."

"You're forgiven. I still hate you. And I hate tall people. Not like, regular tall people. People your height. Terrifying and hateable height, you know."

"Sure." Wilbur just laughs. His face aches from laughing so much, and so genuinely, at that.

Tommy looks around and sees the best thing ever in the history of ever. A fucking DDR machine.

"Wilbur."

"No."

" Please."

"Tommy, if I do that, I think I will die."

"Of fun."

"No, I'll just fucking die."

The two successfully completed a song in DDR. It was some sort of modern Pigstep remix. Wilbur is dry heaving. Tommy is jumping, shaking from excitement, holding the mass array of tickets in his arms.

Tommy beat Wilbur.

Obviously.

...

But, Tommy realizes he should give Wilbur a few minutes. Poor old man lungs, yaknow?

"Wilbur," Tommy begins. Wilbur's name is beginning to sound like a precursor to disaster.

Tommy points to a machine accompanied by a tall chair, a sign on top of the ridiculously decorated machine saying Nevadas Fortune.

"I need to know. My future. My purpose. It's all in the eyes of this machine, Wilbur."

Wilbur walks over to the machine- Tommy having already placed himself on the accompanying chair. It's a statue of sorts- of a man, wearing overalls and a button up shirt- black hair and a beanie. Wilbur recognises him- The face of Las Nevadas, and the PLANET DUCK™, Alexis- pseudonym, Quackity.

There's a 16-bit screen replacing the statue's chest saying PLEASE ENTER 5 TOKENS TO REVEAL YOUR FORTUNE!

Tommy stares at the bright font accompanied by a 16-bit sprite of Quackity dancing to the theme playing from the machine.

"Wilbur, this is the coolest thing ever."

"How gullible are you?"

"How pessimistic are you?"

"Touché."

Wilbur gives him 5 tokens, allowing the boy to amuse himself, and Tommy is quick to put the tokens in before placing his hands on the orb placed between the statue and the chair.

"It must read my vibe, and my pogness, and dictate my fortune about women or something else that is poggers." Tommy drabbles, staring into the screen. Wilbur snorts passively.

A blessing has come your way, and it will continue to bring you to a brighter day.

The screen reads out, and Tommy stares at it for a moment before revealing yet another wide smile.

"Wilbur, It means you! It's talking about you, Wilbur!"

Wilbur lets out a small noise, confused. Tommy grabs his sleeve and pulls him to his side, Wilbur adjusting his glasses to read the pixelated screen.

"That's literally you!" Tommy smiles, giggling, clapping his hands together. "That's so awesome, Wilbur! I knew it was real. I'm not gullible! It's literally talking about you!"

Wilbur is barely registering a word Tommy is saying, more enraptured with the fact that, This is how Tommy perceives Wilbur. Despite all of Tommy's sharp edges, he sees Wilbur as a blessing.

Wilbur turns around, back facing Tommy, before burying his face in his hands. He wants to sob. This is adorable, and it has zero fucking right to be.

All the while Tommy just spins on the chair, clapping his hands, giddy and satisfied with his fortune.

The two continue to partake in all sorts of games- some retro, some more modern, some requiring way too much energy that Wilbur could barely cope with, all sorts of games! Tommy's favourite ended up being this large cow statue accompanied by a game machine where you had to control a small, very cartoonish cow to bounce to a rhythm. Meanwhile Wilbur's favourite was simply bowling, if not for the game, then for the amount of times Tommy fell over, the weight of the bowling ball being far too heavy for him to throw whilst bending his back for momentum.

They ended with dozens of tickets, ones of which Wilbur just handed to Tommy. Wilbur didn't have any use for them of course.

Tommy ran to the ticket stand as Wilbur simply rested on the wall next to the exit, taking in deep breaths. Admittedly- he's quite tuckered out, and yet, he can't bring himself to regret it.

Very soon, Tommy ran back to Wilbur, bag in hand.

"I was able to get so many things , and by that I mean one, but that's cool, because it's a good thing."

"What thing?" Wilbur amuses him.

Tommy promptly pulls out an orca plushie. It's quite big, especially when in Tommy's arms.

"It's for you! Orca's remind me of you- like, way too fuckin' big, since you're so tall and shit, and like on the advertisement thing for the plushie it said something about orca's resembling family, and, it's just cool to own, so like-"

Tommy continues to ramble about why he chose the orca.

Wilbur cries. Tommy doesn't notice amidst his rambles.

He's so fucking endearing it's not even fair.