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"How far is it to the German border?" Harley asks once she's exhausted her repertoire of Christmas carols. She shifts in her seat and stretches first one arm, then the other. Her tush is getting sore.
"We should be crossing the Dutch border soon," her Mistress of the Map replies. "From there it is not far."
"Too bad it's still dark. I'd love some Belgian waffles and whipped cream."
Her stomach rumbles to remind her it's been empty since lunch at the Asylum. Unless you count the eggnog.
"Did you pack provisions? You must have been expecting to be on the road for a bit."
From the back, Pammy produces a sandwich wrapped in brown paper. Harley loves sandwiches. Sure, she'd have loved anything at this point, but sandwiches rank among the top. Hopefully it has gherkins on it.
She opens her mouth wide. Pammy's lips purse in a sour expression, but after a moment she heaves an inaudible sigh and lifts the bread slices to Harley's face. Harley chomps down happily and her tastebuds dance when they meet sun-ripened tomatoes. At this time of year! There's lettuce too, and cucumber slices, though they've not been pickled.
"Hmm," Harley moans around a mouthful, "if only we had tea to go with it."
"Who says that we do not?" With a vulpine smile, Pammy conjures forth a vacuum flask of the desired liquid. Its steaming herbal scent soon suffuses the air.
Harley rejoices. "You're the best Christmas present I ever got!"