OOC: I give you the Ice Cream Bunny if you dare. Safe for work, but not your sanity.
IC:
Emma returned the look with a confident nod. She took a look around. It was like the inside of a five year old's Christmas Eve brain. Small, complicated wooden puzzles, the kind you might buy at Barnes and Noble as secondary gifts, rolled by on the conveyor belt.
For a few seconds, Emma was at a loss. Nothing seemed sinister, aside from the cotton-candy-mind effect that popped up when she tried to read an elf's mind. She felt a little awkward. "Ah-hem. Is the big guy around? Take us to your leader," she finally said.