Tizzy Humbug tightened the straps of her saddlebags. It was time to head to the great Tenochtitlan Basin to aid in the national effort to retrieve the lost leader. So long a journey, of course, would require a few train rides, and even after that there would still be several kilometres of walking before they could even begin to scan the area. Just the thought of it was exhausting, not to mention the concept of travelling with Quip Pundit. She shuddered, rapidly shifting her mind to a more pleasing topic. At the very least, the Tenochtitlan Basin was a beautiful area, with massive trees nourished by frequent showers and complex networks of fungi. Perhaps the journey would end up being more like a vacation.
Then, she grew nervous. The region was known for having many fierce predators and dangerous flora, all of which could injure or kill her during her expedition. Gah! Having anxiety really ruins things, making it impossible to enjoy life-threatening situations like everyone else. Why must she be tortured by such dreadful misfortune?
Glancing around to see the ponies around her, she began to hyperventilate. Luckily, her comrades should either already be at the train station or close enough that they would see her soon. She took a swig of water from her canteen to calm herself.
A great blast from the train called her to its doors. As she approached, she met the eyes of her dear friend, Mort Swain, her saddle bags precariously placed upon her back. She smiled and waved at Tizzy Humbug, still using her other hoof to support the baggage she carried, and immediately fell face-first into the wooden boards beneath her.
“Morty! Are you okay?” she asked, obstructing the path of everypony around as she rushed to her side and stood nearby as she gathered her items. “The world is so cruel; you don’t deserve to be dropped on the ground, yet it seems to happen quite often.”
“The world owes me nothing. It came first,” said Mort Swain, finally rising to enter the train. She chuckled a bit as they walked to their designated cabin together, carrying her bags in the same way she had previously.
The two sat down across from each other and chatted for a while about unique and intriguing philosophical theories relating to the complex concepts of favoured colours and children’s media.
After an hour of such conversation, a waiter approached the table, prepared to take their order. Tizzy Humbug turned to speak to him and let out a deafening squeal.
“What the heck Quip Pundit?! How long have you been sitting there?!” she asked, barely breathing after coming dangerously close to cardiac arrest.
“I see your eyesight has worsened since I last saw you. I’ve been by you since we arrived at the train station! I even helped you carry your bags!” he said, tragically dropping her belongings as the train experienced an especially prominent rumble.
“Wh- Why?! You know what, nevermind,” she said, turning her attention to the waiter.
The pony cleared his throat before offering the group a vast selection of cheese-related dishes. Each pony took their turn ordering; for Quip Pundit, a grilled cheese sandwich, made from camembert cheese bread and a melted provolone cheese centre, with a side of ripple-cut gouda fries, for Mort Swain, a mix of edam cheese-berries dipped in mascarpone cheese and medium-rare havarti cheese-fish, and for Tizzy Humbug, a two-layered cheese cake, the specialty of the cheese chef, which consisted of a base layer of muenster cheese and a top layer of taleggio cheese, fully frosted with a creamy chevre cheese frosting.
Five minutes later, the glorious feast of cheese arrived at their table. Luckily, Tizzy Humbug’s seemingly constant depression was easily swept aside by the magnificence of cheese. She quickly unpacked her colourful collection of cheese knives and began to cut her cheese cake, the moist chevre frosting smearing across the muenster and taleggio as she sliced through it. The cake, of course, was delicious, however that did not prevent her from trying the perfectly cooked havarti fish and mouth-wateringly cheesy grilled cheese which Quip Pundit, an obnoxiously picky eater, refused to eat. In the end, the whole meal turned into almost a brawl between Tizzy Humbug and Mort Swain, who continuously stole the cheese from each other’s cheese-plates. When all had run out of the gourmet cheese dishes, the two resorted to eating the delectable manchego cheese plates, claiming that if they did not, they would likely be unable to survive the search for Our Friend and Liberator, Cadence. Quip Pundit merely nodded, looking on with disdain at the unholy quantities of cheese which had come and gone before his eyes and preparing to sleep in the cabin’s bunk bed.
After a thorough, perhaps even excessive, night of cheese, the three settled down for the night. Thankfully, the FCP spared no bits in making sure that every drafted pony would have everything they could possibly need, including two beds for the group of three. Having two ponies in the same bed was out of the question, so the only logical option at this point was to have Quip Pundit sleep on the floor, as he had been through worse in the past, whereas Tizzy Humbug, being the unicorn that she was, required a high quality resting place to ensure that her magic would function well in case of emergency. Quip Pundit flopped down on the floor and quickly fell asleep, as did the others in the bunks, enjoying the peaceful night on the train.