The pink one is an obvious choice. Caleb piles into it behind a squealing Jester and settles himself on the opposite side from the door, which swings across and secures with a latch. Inside the teacup the whole thing is one continuous pastel pink circular bench, and the hard, smooth material pretty much guarantees sliding around once the ride gets moving.

His fingers wrap securely around the bar positioned in the middle, his only hope of remaining remotely in one place. "It is going to spin very fast," he warns, turning to Jester with a grimace. "I would advise holding onto something."