Sloane was easily redirected from the topic of murdering bunnies or alligator chomps and onto ramen; she rolled with the subject change easily, bouncing alongside Alix as they made their way into the train station. "So each stand does full size bowls," she explained animatedly, free hand curving as if to approximate the size of the bowl. "But they also do little mini sizes for I guess humans to be able to try all of them without getting crazy stuffed and blowing up into a giant blueberry like that one chick in Willy Wonka. But we can totally get the full sizes, I don't doubt either of our ability to take down like nine bowls of ramen." She grinned, nudging Alix with a shoulder. "I just wonder if we're going to make it back to the Cirque before we fall into the carb coma."
She tilted her head. "What, like the seventeen-cent packs of ramen from the grocery store?" she asked. "That was actually my version of chicken noodle soup growing up. Chicken ramen, basically the same thing. Chicken flavor, noodles, it's warm and makes you feel good." She hadn't been sick very often at all, but chicken soup was good for more than a physical ailment. It was good for feeling sad, too. "I kept a stash in my room so I could make it for myself and my brothers wouldn't steal it. But like, this is gonna be the real stuff. No noodle blocks here, probably."