Slurp.

Slurp?

That's not usually allowed in a museum. In fact, it's frowned upon as fiercely as is possible to frown.

Doesn't stop James.

Standing very tall, dressed in clothing more appropriate to the dead of winter, James is standing in front of a map of the museum, slurping noisily on a slushie in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other. He's certainly getting a few stares, whether for his food or his clothes or both.

His clothes, so controversial, are quite fluffy. He's wearing a long sleeved sweater that looks as if it was made from... well, something really fluffy and soft and warm. It was a vibrant green colour and otherwise plain. His pants were full length and then some, with a six inch wide stripe of white faux fur running down the sides. Hidden beneath then (at least until he moved; the pants were light weight material) was a pair of leg warmers, deliciously '80s horrible. His shoes would have fit well in a circus.

It was all a dare, really. The clothing, anyway. The food was all him.