<div class="floatleft">(http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lw7f1erUar1ql0mb8o1_500.jpg)</div>Name: Wayland<br/>Place within Hierarchy: New Talent<br/>Role: Hand<br/>Position: Musician<br/>Location: Train, Group Housing<br/>Wearing: A loose fitting plaid shirt (http://www.hollister-dundrum.com/images/hollister/Hollister-Mens-Plaid-Shirts-Blue.jpg) with a white sleeveless shirt underneath, as well as a pair of stone washed jeans (http://media.impericon.com/media/catalog/product/d/i/dickies_manchaster_stonewashed_jeans_lg.jpg) and old boots (http://ramblinjackson.com/wp-content/themes/ramblinJackson/img/cowboyBoots.png).<br/>Languages and Accent: English, Southern Accent<br/>Tagging: Lexie<br/><br/>"<em>What have I gotten myself into...</em>"<br/><br/>The question ran through Wayland's mind over and over through-out the morning, having been assigned to help clean the animal cages, direct orders from Queen Elizabeth (as he liked to put it... Not out loud, though). As told the night before, he was to keep a low profile until having been given an actual job. Truth be told he hadn't kept care of animals since he was back at home, though the cows didn't have teeth the size of daggers. He hadn't touched his fiddle since he had come onto the train, not wanting to disturb the older gentleman which he was boarded up with. With absolutely no sound coming from him as he slept Wayland was almost positive he was dead though his current absence altered his opinion. The only person he had talked to that morning would be Elizabeth, doing as he was told and doing his damnedest to keep from drawing attention to himself.<br/><br/>His hazel eyes stared out the single window in their room, watching as the occasional telephone pole whipped by until it was nearly dark. A short string of curse words cleared his mouth as he finally sat up, reaching under the small bed and grabbing a black case (http://1-violin-violin-case.com/violin-ant-str-web.jpg), setting it on the side of his bed and popping it open in front of him. He gingerly pulled the instrument from  its case, inspecting the strings along with the rod. He hesitated for a moment before setting the violin on his left shoulder, about to set the rod on the strings when he heard the door shut just next to his. He had seen the girl leave the room before, having met her his first night on the job... Lexie, was it...? He jogged his memory, making sure his assumption was correct. He certainly didn't want to disturb anyone else on the cart, knowing it would probably be his first and only time to do so if they complained.<br/><br/>He paused for a moment, the only sound coming from below them. on the tracks, or at least he thought so. He could barely make it out, though the sound of sobs barely broke through the wall in front of him. He stood up with his violin in his left hand, walking closer to the wall until he could be sure of what he was hearing. He frowned slightly, having been told by the guy he worked with yesterday that she was normally the most upbeat person in the family. He stood there for a moment, listening as the muffled sobs almost clawed at his insides. As he continued to listen in, his empathy started getting the better of him, sitting down on the side of his bed and setting the instrument into the box, the rod sitting just out of the box. He gave a short sign, rubbing the back of his neck rather roughly. The sobs seemed to become a little lighter to the point he couldn't hear them anymore, though that didn't mean much to him at this point.<br/><br/>Wayland reached over and grabbed his old pair of cowboy boots, slipping them on over the pair of tube socks he had on. A nervous feeling crept up on him like a predator, second guessing what he was about to do all together. Of all people, Wayland wasn't the type of person to allow another to feel miserable on their own. If he had the opportunity he would do what he could to make them feel better. He couldn't ever tell if he was doing this for himself or for the benefit of the other. He grabbed a hold of his knee as soon as he registered he was tapping his heal on the floor, a faint grin showing up on his face. Of all things, women were his downfall. He couldn't speak to one or even look at her, for that matter, without a stupid smile on his face. '<em>Stop acting like you're twelve all over again...</em>' He thought to himself, standing up and making a move toward the door, hesitating for a moment before grabbing the door knob and twisting it open.<br/><br/>He took a couple of steps and pulled the back of his hand up to the door, tapping three times with his knuckles on the wooden surface. It suddenly dawned on him at this moment that he had no idea what he would say to her. 'Hey I heard you crying in the other room and I wanted to make you feel better.' He thought to himself, a sigh erupting from his mouth though he muffled it with his right hand rubbing his mouth, 'Great idea Einstein...' He started running through sentences in the back of his mind fast enough to break the sound barrier. Every urge wanted to dart back into his room and shut the door, though his mind didn't react fast enough, the door slowly opening. "Hi, I, uh..." He paused for a second, her blue eyes seemingly enough to freeze his motor functions. He paused for a second, slowly holding his hand out, "I'm new here," He started, his southern accent laid on thick, "My name's Wayland..." He trailed off, not sure if he should say anything else, the very thought keeping his mouth open a little bit. Good lord, if she didn't think he had a mental issue already, he was lucky.