The Air Cushion Entity took them across Rome and into a heavily guarded building. "Take no notice," he chortled, "This is all my domain. You are recognised as acceptable." Turbina made a comfortable landing. "What do we do now?" asked the Wabbit. "Nothing," said the Cushion entity. He settled into the waiting grooves. They seemed to have been made for him. The Wabbit noticed how kinky they were. "Are you always this kinky?" he asked, "I strive to be," said the Cushion. "Can you be kinky on your own?" asked Wabsworth. "I am many and we may take on whatever form we wish." The Cushion as adamant. "Would you like a refreshment?" "I thought you'd never ask," replied the Wabbit. The Wabbit was enveloped in a fine spray of Prosseco and so was Wabsworth. "This is kinky," said Wabsworth. He turned on his Prosecco enjoyment sub routine. "I'm all sticky," muttered Turbina. The Cushion responded by showering the car interior with a fragrant anti-static cleaning material. "What about a sandwich?" asked Turbina. "I only do liquids," laughed the Cushion. "I have a pulverised version." Turbina shuddered. The Wabbit fished in his fur and handed Turbina a salad sandwich. "Emergency rations," he grinned. The Wabbit looked around. "What takes place here?" "Very little," hooted the cushion, "it's a place to be." The Wabbit and Wabsworth got out of Turbina. The Wabbit struggled a bit, "Doesn't get any easier, does it?" grunted Wabsworth, "But would you like another prosecco?" The Wabbit leaped out with ease.
