Jack sat down heavily across the table from Montano, who was nursing a drink. The moving platform they sat upon moved at a steady pace through the woods, threading its way through the cutaway houses.
"I've just come from the concert," Jack said to Montano. "There was a lighting problem. I had to jury rig the wall lights. I hope that is what Narin wanted."
"Hmph. We'll find out," replied Montano, looking up from his drink.
Jack took a sip of his own drink, reminiscing about his brief stint as a concert promoter. He had seen an enormous woodwind instrument that reached toward the ceiling and seemed to weigh several tons owing to its enormous base, though the frizzy-haired man playing it had no trouble supporting its girth. For how visually striking it'd been, Jack could barely recall it's sub-bass tones.
Glancing to his left, Jack beheld another cutaway house. He saw a large sewing room full of child-sized cowboy outfits.
"Crazy! How does that work?..." Jack absently remarked to Montano.
