Frisk, Grand Central Terminal, Gift Shop
[hr]
Gift shops were great.

If only there was someone at the register, maybe they'd buy something. But there was noone, just a bunch of nothing and some train models, and miniature statues of a big green lady. Maybe that still counted as nothing, tiny trains and tiny statue ladies were pretty lame. Frisk settled for browsing, eyes falling upon some of the lame trains which seemed to line the back wall of the Grand Central gift shop - or rather, this gift shop. There were a few from what they'd seen. 

Among the dusty and somewhat off-coloured miniature plastic trains, one stuck out. Where the silver paint on the rest of them had sort of just become a dull grey, this one still had that NEW and FRESH train shine to it. Was it new? Had someone been looking after this one and only this one? It is a mystery. Enough so for Frisk to reach out and touch it at least -

[i]The station, buzzing with life. No dust, no overgrowth. Hustle and bustle. Sound of the tracks in use deeper in. Cars outside. Excessive honking. Honking does not make the traffic go faster.[/i] 

Frisk's hand flinched back at the brief vision, and after a moments consideration, took the train once more. They were not a genius, but they did not have to be one to know that was important.

With a pocket full of spaghetti and a magic toy train in hand, Frisk was ready for the next challenge. They didn't actually know what that was. Fresh air sounded nice, though. The child left the mysterious, plot progressing gift shop, through the terminal, and back into the outside world. Which was suddenly quite different.