The next morning, Cindy wakes up before she does. He makes breakfast.

Pen wakes up to kitchen noises. "What is breakfast?" she asks, almost philosophically, stretching as she opens her eyes.

"French toast!" he says cheerfully.

"What is?" She heads into the kitchen to get a look at it.

He hands her a plate with a French toast on it.

"I like it," he says. He finishes the last toast, serves it to himself, and brings the plate with the rest of the toasts piled on it to the counter. There is also most of the same stuff out that there was with the waffles.

Pen experiments with topping combinations. She seems to really like maple-and-blueberries.

Experimenting is fun! He has a different combination of things on each toast.

"When I'm done," he says. Half a toast to go! He washes it down with the rest of his previously unmentioned glass of milk. "All right, c'mon."

Pen follows him. "Fly there? No airplanes day?"

"Nope. Drive there," he says.

Pen makes a face. "Ew."

"Aw, it's not that bad. I hope not, anyway."

"Been in a truck one time. Bleah."

He closes the window behind them and, for a change, goes to where there is a door in the middle of the roof. It's locked, but not for long. Inside, there are stairs; he takes her down the stairs into the dimly lit parking garage, and from there all the way to the back, where there is a dark blue minivan. He extracts the keys from his pocket, unlocks the vehicle, and rolls open the door for her. Inside, the backs have been removed from the middle row of seats.

Pen examines the vehicle, apparently determines that it's not going to eat her, and sits on a backless seat.

And Cindy closes the door, gets in the driver's seat, and starts driving.

Pen fidgets, and peers out the windows.

Soon they are out of the parking garage; after that, they are on the streets of Gotham, at such an hour of the morning that hardly anyone else is. Still a few cars, though.

"Good," he says cheerfully. The car has a radio; he turns it on. Someone is forecasting the weather.

"Ick weather," pronounces Pen. "You need angels. No Jovah here to sing though."