Feathers and Nicotine, Alcohol and Animal Print | Fenna + Abel | The Station Car

Abel Lazarus

Even if Abel knew the air on the bridge was probably the freshest he’d had access to since he boarded the train in the first place, something about this New car makes him feel like he was really getting fresh air. Finally. This new place had Space. Space where he didn’t have to be packed in somewhere. Sure the Ice and the bridge weren’t exactly Small or anything but they had to all be near each other and God Abel Hates being around people. It makes him feel… Claustrophobic? Like the available space just instantly splits in half for each person added. It’s not even that he’s claustrophobic exactly. It’s just… People.

Of course. Not All People. His Uncle Marius and Uncle Ransom are always fine, Cain and Tsubasa are fine most of the time, depending, and even sometimes his father, Edgar, and Benedict were fine. Honestly? What he wouldn’t Give to be canned in here with Any of them instead. Even if it was Benedict when he was feeling particularly fond of nagging him. Or- Well.

He… Kind of misses them. Regardless of how tense Actually being here with any of them might be.

But alas. Here he is. with strangers. Thirteen strangers who all seem… like people he’d never talk to. Sure, for a bit he didn’t mind Fenna too much, she was nice, but then she started smoking on the bridge and he spotted the animal print leggings, and just like that he didn’t want to really talk to her either anymore. Even if the Boa and her hair reminded him of Ransom- There’s someone far more pressing he’s thinking of instead- and it’s hard to pull his mind from that.

He just had to hope Marius would come to save him soon, because of course he will, and then he can pretend these people never existed. He can go right back to…

…

Anyway. He really looks at what’s around him here. The station isn’t all too unfamiliar a sight- not that he’s seen the exact building before or anything- so there’s Some comfort in recognizing little details. His father liked to take him and Cain to see older-style buildings when they visited Japan. He always said something about it being important for them to understand their culture, which Abel didn’t necessarily disagree with. His only problem had been the squat toilets. Well. And having to figure out how to look properly somber at the gravesite of a person he’d never met, but that was less relevant to the building and more relevant to his ever-devolving emotional state.

Inside the station was what he’d have to assume is standard. Seating, signs, turnstiles, nothing that stuck out there. A quick glance into the bathrooms tells him that even if he needed to use them- he was simply Not Going To. That left him with the ticket booth.

Which. Also didn’t have much going for it, really. Maybe he could find a notebook and a pencil or pen? He could start writing down anything he needed to keep track of, any relevant information. Things that could be helpful once they’ve gotten out of here. Maybe he could kill some time cleaning up in there. Sure it wasn’t. Actually messy or anything, but he’s Very good at organizing and he Is the sort of person that finds that kind of thing relaxing. Plus, it seems he’s alone in the building, for now at least, and if he looks sufficiently busy organizing… whatever is in a ticket booth, maybe people will leave him be. Yeah. That sounds good. Even if he does get talked to he’s good at controlling himself at work, and it’s hard to get angry when you’re sorting paper clips.

… If you’re him, I guess.

Fenna Van Daalen

Fenna finds Abel pretty quickly after the initial chaos of discovering a whole new world past the train door. The six-foot-four redhead wasn’t exactly easy to miss, even if she wasn’t already going out of her way to look for him.

She watches the boy for a moment as he searches the booth, meticulously organizing whatever he can find on the desk. She couldn’t imagine finding that anything but a horrendous chore, especially with nobody there telling you to do it, but… He said he was a secretary, right? At some big fancy corporation? He must find something fun in it, she supposed, if he’s willing to do that kind of thing all day.

Fenna’s never been able to stand still for too long, though. And she’s worried about this kid! It feels like he’s been avoiding her, but something about him just activates her mother hen instinct. Following the wall, she steps a little closer and speaks up.

“Ey kid… Abel, right? Ya holdin’ up okay?”

She holds her hands up to show that she’s not got a cigarette in hand this time.

Abel Lazarus

Fenna Van Daalen “Ey kid… Abel, right? Ya holdin’ up okay?”

His face is interesting when he hears her speak, to say the least. Surprise- Sure. A little bit of annoyance- of course. Settling into something semi-close to a scowl? Yeah. The only thing holding it short is that he’s still keeping his attention on Meticulously arranging something that is Absolutely Arbitrary to even organize in the first place. It’s fine, though, really, it’s not like his resting face isn’t also looking ready to bite someone’s head off. If anything the relaxation Could make it look nicer- to certain people.

“Ah, Ms. Fenna… I’m fine, really.” He gives a. Tense sort of smile. For a moment his eyes do leave what he’s working on for this but he’s just as quick to bring them right back. “I was hoping I might find something to write on and something to write with- to write anything down that could be important when we get out of here. You know, for the police.”

Since they’ve clearly been kidnapped or Something. Sure he willingly got On the train but he didn’t really plan to come here so… That’s still kidnapping, right?

“I assure you, you don’t need to worry about me.” He bends down for something, nothing important really, and tucks his hair behind his ear as he’s coming back up. It seems at that moment he realizes he never undid the quick bun he put his hair into in the first car- So Fenna does get his eyes on her while he stands to pull the hair tie free and put it back in just the ponytail. At this moment he notices she has her hands free of any sort of cigarette or anything, which makes his expression a bit laxer before he again spots the animal print and it returns to where it was just a moment prior. Hard to win with him.

Fenna Van Daalen

Abel Lazarus “Ah, Ms. Fenna… I’m fine, really.”

Ah. Fenna has seen that smile before. Why, she makes it herself on the regular, on bad nights behind the register, but seeing it now, on a young man just about the same age as… She doesn’t think much about it in the moment, but she resolves to not let him blow her off that easily.

Abel Lazarus "…to write anything down that could be important when we get out of here. You know, for the police.”

“The cops, huh… Maybe where yer from they’d believe ya,” she mumbles under her breath. “But writin’ things down sounds good?”

“Ya haven’t said a thing ta make me worry less, though! Now I’m naht yer ma, but I am a professional at listenin’ ta people’s troubles, so ya know, if ya need ta talk…”

Her voice trails off as she watches him fix his ponytail and straighten back up. The stiffness in his posture makes her think of cardboard.

“It’s a hell of a lot for everyone, yeah?”

Abel Lazarus

“Well, my aunt is a police officer last I checked, so even if I wasn’t a rich man in LA I’m sure they’d still be listening about this.” Of course. He holds even more of a benefit in the family name holding as much weight as it does- and then there’s the lawyer step-dad-

He furrows his brow while he quickly and easily taps papers into a neat pile.

“Besides, I write many things for my job. It’s good to keep track of things, and as the head secretary I also take on assistant jobs for my Uncle as well. He knows I won’t mess up on what to send to clients because I’m sure to write down anything necessary to Know about each client.” Talking about his job Also seems to be a bit of a relaxer for him. Go figure.

But the mention of ‘Ma’ steels his face all over again. It seems like mothers could be a touchy subject. In fact, he glances Fenna over at the comment. Just a hint suspicious. Many thoughts run through his head too quickly to keep track of so he shoves his annoyance back down and. Dumps out paper clips to sort.

“You aren’t my mother. That’s correct.” It’s a little cold. He clears his throat.

“It certainly is a lot, but I’m sure I’ll be okay.” He’s sorting the paper clips by size which seems to calm his tone back down. “Really, if you need someone to talk to though- I can listen while I work.” It’s mostly a curtesy to offer. She could take him up on it or push him about himself. “I imagine you have places you’d much rather be as well. I recall a few mentioning a train or bus earlier- and you’re from Chicago. Clearly some traveling has been done.”

Fenna Van Daalen

Abel Lazarus “Well, my aunt is a police officer last I checked, so even if I wasn’t a rich man in LA I’m sure they’d still be listening about this.”

“Fair enough, I guess?”

Rich kid from L.A. tracks. Far as she’s concerned there’s never a reason to talk to cops, but folks are different in different places, she guesses.

She lets him talk for a bit. It certainly wasn’t escaping her that he was trying to deflect, flipping the questions back around on her, but… Well, maybe she had been too pushy. There was obviously something else going on with him that she wasn’t keyed into just yet. She’ll back off a little and offer some information of her own.

Abel Lazarus “You aren’t my mother. That’s correct.”

“…Nah, I’m not. My son’s a lot further away. Got on the train hopin’ ta see him… But who knows, now.”

She could use another smoke. One per day, though. Gotta ration them out.

“Don’t remember any travelin’, though? Train showed up at 4am, barrelin’ down the street right outside the Lounge, den I woke up with yous guys. Weird as hell.”

Abel Lazarus

We will, again, be glad he doesn’t necessarily associate lounge with bar. Lounges in his head are just fancy people meeting places. Similar to restaurants or something. Sure Marius complains about not liking meeting up with people at them, but he’s lame enough to miss out on fine details About what happens at lounges.

“It was similar for me. Just before 3 AM right outside The Estate. I thought the neighbours might have had a strange project they didn’t clear with us, and then suddenly I was on the ice.” It. Bothers him that things are Missing from his memories there. Or, at least he had to Assume things were missing. It could be that he was just out Cold the whole time, but he Also doesn’t appreciate that thought.

He’s starting to reorganize things he’s already organized, trying to find the most ideal way to line everything up. It’s soothing the frustration that’s definitely building in his little bottle.

“Where does your son live?” Maybe the question is a bit personal. He certainly won’t mind if she refuses to answer- but as a gossip, he is curious about little details. “It’s hard to live away from family members you’d rather live with.” Buddy. You only ever lived 30 minutes tops away from your uncle. This is Not the same. Either way, he’s having an easier time pretending this is just a conversation between coworkers now. It’s. Close enough?

Fenna Van Daalen

Abel Lazarus “Where does your son live?”

“Hm? Ah… Melbourne, Australia. Last I heard, anyway…”

Fenna doesn’t seem particularly forthcoming with the details there, and his last comment only gets a sigh. In fact, the speed with which she pivots the conversation is a little jarring.

“Big old ghost train shows up right outside my door and tells me it’s goin’ ta the other side a the world? Obviously I shouldn’t have gotten on, but… How could I naht? Ha!”

She pokes her head outside to look around before returning to idly going through a cabinet. Turns out a ticket booth contains… a lot of blank tickets.

“Ya find anything weird over there yet? Naht sure what we’re supposed ta be lookin’ for, exactly.”

Abel Lazarus

Australia? God if he lived that far from someone-

“I suppose all of us should have thought better about getting on the train…” The opening of the cabinet does irritate him, but mostly because now that she’s touching things she might mess up his organizing. Not that it’ll be hard to fix things since there isn’t really… Much to do in here.

“I don’t think I’ve seen anything too strange.” But he hasn’t really been looking that hard yet. As he found things he wanted to go through he stopped to organize that before opening any other cabinets. “You’re free to look through them if you like, I haven’t gone through all of them yet.” He doesn’t Actually want her going through things so close to him but he will. Deal. He can Manage.

“Let me know if you find a notebook or a pen.”

Fenna Van Daalen

“Mmm…” What else was she supposed to say to that? Obviously they should have thought better, but they didn’t, and Fenna suspects the train wouldn’t have showed up if she’d been in a state of mind to turn it down. She knows what that says about her, and wonders what it says about him…

Anyway, he’s talking about the cabinets now.

“Dese ones over here? Sure.”

Glad to have something to take her mind off things, she moves to the opposite side of the booth and starts going through the shelves, trying put things back where she found them after taking them out and fidgeting with them incessantly. Still nothing too strange yet…

Abel Lazarus

It definitely says nothing positive about him in particular, but surely Fenna can figure as much out from how easily he can kill honest attempts at conversations. The silence is like a reward for the first chunk of it. It’s like he feels he won something that was never a competition.

Because clearly this interaction was… something he needed to… win? Is that what he’s feeling? Not quite. Okay yeah he’s realizing he’s definitely not being very good company- but in his defense, he’s not sure Why she seemed to think he Would be good company. Did she need something? There’s no way she simply- thought he might just be pleasant company.

Not someone like her. Someone like her couldn’t think anything nice about him.

… Yet there’s enough of an urge to. Semi attempt to fix how unpleasant he’s been so far. She Has. Been Nice. And if they’re there for a while- he probably will fare better if someone can at least tolerate him. Networking is important. Marius says so.

Even if he can’t find himself Trusting her niceness at face value, he can’t deny that she has been useful thus far. People seem to like her well enough. If they like her and she will tolerate him… then they’ll tolerate him too. Probably. Selfish self preservation is enough of a reason to try.

He clears his throat and attempts to. Bridge a bit. “So. You’re a business owner? You called it your lounge so.” Awkward pause. “My uncle is a business owner too.” Because really. That’s his idea of Connecting.

Fenna Van Daalen

Fenna’s a little surprised that he tries to resume the conversation, but she’s not gonna complain. Maybe they’ll part on good terms after all?

Abel Lazarus “So. You’re a business owner? You called it your lounge so.”

“Hm? Well yes, I do, but– somehow, I don’t think it’s yer type a establishment, dear! Maybe if ya came over in the afternoon, afore the DJ shows up, it’s a lovely old building and ya could look at the archy-tecture… Still gatta be 21 or older, though. I’m sure yer uncle’s got a much more ritzy gig–”

She opens one more cabinet and sees a glimmer of metal– something weird! Finally! She hasn’t quite worked up the nerve to touch it just yet, though.

“Now what the hell is dis…? Look!”

Narrator

On a lower shelf is an odd gleam of black-and-white metal—a roughly hemispherical lump, with two… cat limbs? branching out from it. It’s a bit difficult to recognize exactly what it’s supposed to be as-is, but it sure doesn’t seem useful. Or that decorative.

Abel Lazarus

“Maybe not. I don’t really go many places-“

At first he assumes she thinks he’s a kid or something- but then he sort of. Realizes what 21 being the age requirement means.

Many things go through his head at once. Frustration, Satisfaction he was Right- without even thinking he’s going to make a comment but he’s stopped by her exclamation.

“What-“ he comes over to look but stops and furrows his brow. “What… is that?” He pushes his glasses up and squints at it.

He sticks his hand out to touch it before realizing it might not be safe and stopping. Hm. Maybe he shouldn’t be the one to touch it. His hand goes back down. Maybe they should just leave it be- or better yet- she can deal with it.

Fenna Van Daalen

Fenna catches a bit of an odd look on Abel’s face and raises an eyebrow, but the weird avant garde sculpture is a more pressing matter. Curiosity wins out over caution, and she pulls the thing out from the shelf. It’s a little heavy…

“Wha… It’s gaht little arms! What on earth…”

She grabs it by said arms and tries to wiggle them with limited success. Apparently looking silly isn’t much of a concern for her.

“Looks sorta like a little kitty cat… Don’t cha think? The little paws?”

Abel Lazarus

“It does look catlike- yes.” He’s a bit stiffer now. He’s so totally contained and not going to override this clearly important conversation to go on about the degeneracy of drinking alcohol. Absolutely Not. “I wonder what it’s doing here.”

Yeah he’s sounding just a little bit robotic. Come on little guy. You can do it.

“It’s definitely out of place here- maybe it should be taken out.” Okay. He’s over correcting himself- bring it back. “It might be needed for something.”

He’s… shaking. Alright. Okay. Just. Deep breath. Very deep breath. He’s going to finish this interaction. He can Do That Much.

Without even thinking he clasps a hand around his cross and tries so hard to will his face to stop being bright red. He isn’t running yet but goodness knows he’s likely to make a quick exit if he thinks he’s going to fail to contain himself any longer. He knows he can make it without blowing up. Just a little longer.

Fenna Van Daalen

Abel Lazarus “It’s definitely out of place here- maybe it should be taken out.”

“I guess I’ll… look fer the others, then? Yeah.”

Fenna’s not sure what she said to upset him, but she can definitely read a room. Maybe he doesn’t like cats? Or… oh, there’s that cross again. Catholics, man. Who knows?

For now, she’ll just let him work through whatever’s going on in his head there in peace. She slings the weird cat-arm thing under her human arm and quietly heads for the door, glancing over her shoulder as she leaves.