<span style="color: #0040FF">Aboard the train</span><br/><br/>Beau latched onto an outside door handle of one of the coaches and pulled it open. Some moderate effort required to grind the rust in order to make his way through.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Unusual</span>. This was the modern world. Weren't the doors electronic and automatically sensored by now? Or did he take the train so infrequently that he couldn't remember?<br/>He dismissed that trivial thought and put it down to him simply boarding an older model of the usual trains. Just his luck, could his day get any more unclassy?<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Whatever</span><br/><br/>He scoffed out loud.<br/><br/>Honestly, this train wasn't what he expected at all. In the middle of one of the carriages, the lights were pulsating with an underlying buzzing sound. Like a locked up hornet's nest that was ready to swarm once set free to avenge its agitator.<br/><br/>He looked out through the opposite window and noted the pain was half opaque, scratched, slightly open and had a wispy curtain fluttering above it. Rusty red coloured with a long withered and faded rose pattern on it.<br/><br/>From what he gathered before walking through one of the suites, this train was poorly maintained.<br/>Were he to manage this train brand, chain or franchise (or however trains are bloody well run)- he would've ensured consistency with train units. All the same model, same look, same quality, same service.<br/>This was offensive.<br/><br/>He ought to write a complaint about this. Put the company in its place.<br/>How could anybody be so negligent and complacent in this day and age? His list of criticisms would be long. He could outline a whole documentation on safety hazards involving opening that door alone. Children, disabled individuals, the elderly... you name it.<br/>And don't get him started on the lights or the mildew-ridden looking curtain.<br/><br/>For now, however, he needed to sit down. Listen to some music, check his phone. Just enter another zone altogether to escape these rudimentary surroundings.<br/><br/>He lightly pushed another screen door open and walked into one of the carriages.<br/><br/>His face eyebrows slumped ever so slightly into a frown came to learn that the interior of this carriage was no better at all. Wooden floorboards with mutton coloured seats. Side walls clashing horrible given a cyan colour which came only up to the windows. The columnar ceiling was grey coloured which was as exciting as a prison cell wall. The only saving grace for its mundane colour being a series of parallel lamp overhangs.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Really?</span>He questioned irritably. Now he was really getting resentful that his parents weren't here for him. Not here to inflate his ego on how well he's done with his academic chores and internship security, but here to take him home in comfort.<br/>Minor things to get irritated about but when one thing after the other starts to tip the scales, his patience withers.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Not to matter.</span><br/><br/>He sat down. His weight, as slight as it was, still causing a creak upon the seat he was on.<br/>Beau wasn't underweight, nor particularly sporty or athletic. One class of Badminton we week, however, had kept him in reasonable shape and he had his youthful genetics to thank for the physique he had today. He knew he could be much more agile if he worked at it but street wisdom and business skills were more up his alley. He was an opportunist.<br/><br/>That personality would not have been far placed given his perpetual composed and confident smirk he carried on his face. It was so slight, however, then it was never mistaken for arrogance. Not that there was no ego there. On the contrary, sometimes his ego could render him complacent, careless and short sighted if he wasn't careful. But a stereotypical and oblivious 'know it all' was far from what he was.<br/><br/>Adding to that suave personal were keen long ears, a modern upstyle of slick hair with trademark orange goggles (which he wore for no reason at all), and a leather jacket.<br/><br/>His overall colour tone was blue which was a meshwork of dark blues, lighter blues and whites within his fur. Contrasting to that colour scheme were cyan coloured eyes. Translucent and somewhat captivating. Sometimes they made him look vacant, which was a trick he'd use to pretend he wasn't listening to any personal conversations.<br/><br/>It had been five minutes since Beau sat down. The train made a few bleeping sounds. Nil announcements or any such command. He simply accepted it for what it was. At this rate, he was grateful the seats were still intact in this carriage.<br/><br/>He started to stare at parts of the train. Absent mindedly. Scratches, dents, scuff marks, wear and tear haphazardly scrawled throughout the train.<br/><br/>His eyes fell upon an inked work. Presumably made in heavy felt tip and scrawled so hard that he could almost see the sulcus of the dents that the writer had made on the wall.<br/>It read<span style="font-weight: bold">'Wires'.</span>