"Open up, here comes the choo-choo train!"
Jett stared at Moxie, thoroughly unimpressed. This wasn't how he wanted to have his breakfast. Or dinner. Or whatever meal this was, because with no windows or clocks around, it was near impossible to tell what time of day it was.
The spoon waggled in front of his face, forcing him to go cross-eyed as he eyed it. It held a good-sized glob of gray lumpy stuff that he couldn't identify. He suspected it was supposed to be food of some sort, but frankly, the goop Troit had served to the trainees looked more edible than... whatever this was.
He turned his head away. "Not hungry."
His stomach immediately disagreed. Loudly. It didn't care if the spoon was full of nuclear waste; it wanted whatever it had to offer.
"C'mon now, let's park the train, all right?" Moxie said, losing some of the playful coo in exchange for a hint of impatience. "You need to eat."
Jett sighed, then tugged lightly against his wrist restraints. "Then let me eat."
"What do you think I'm trying to do?" The spoon tapped against his nose, smearing some of the gray stuff on it. He shuddered. It was cold. And smelled a bit like sour socks. His stomach lurched against its confines, trying to grab onto the cold sour sock slime. You traitor.
"I can feed myself," he said. He narrowed his eyes.
Moxie pulled the spoon away, giving him a flat look. "Oh sure. I untie you, you feed yourself, then you try and stab yourself in the eye with a spoon. I'm sure -"
"I'm not going to do that!" Jett interrupted her, horrified at her suggestion. Spoons weren't made for stabbings. How would that even work? Rather than impaling, it's be easier to just scoop it out. Ugh. Why was he even trying to figure this out?
"Forget about it," she said. "Raven said not to undo those belts unless he was here, and I happen to think that's a great plan. It would've been better if we had a padded room and a strait jacket , though. It would do you a lot better than that freakish white suit. Heh." She smirked, and moved the spoon back into his face. "Maybe I could make some adjustments to your flyer suit?"
Jett stiffened, eyes widening. "Don't you d – mmfgh!"
Moxie shoved the spoon into his open mouth, smiling brightly. "There we go, we've parked the train! Good baby!"
Having no other choice, Jett swallowed the stuff. Even though it was soft and mushy, it didn't taste all that bad. It had been sweetened with something, with hint of cinnamon and some other spice he couldn't identify.
"Okay, one more. Ready?" Moxie dug up another spoonful. "Here comes the choo-choo train!"
"Just stop," Jett pleaded, leaning his head back as far as it could go. He sagged in resignation. "I'll eat, okay? Just don't do that... that train thing."
"Because I'm not a baby!"
She smirked. "That's where you're wrong. You're like, the biggest baby I've ever met."
"I am not!"
"Yes you are."
"No! I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"Just stop it!"
"Aw, is baby getting annoyed?" Moxie tapped the spoon against his nose for the second time, eyes dancing with glee.
YOU ARE READING
Sequel to I AM A FLYER The common people fear and loathe him, yet he's determined to protect them. The military organization that he betrayed calls for his death. And the madman who has begun sending out armies of mechanical warriors to burn the w...