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[h3][color=fdc68a]~Graham Turner~[/color][/h3]

[color=00aeef]"No, its just you and your annoying coughing."[/color]

A voice sounding none too pleasant answered him from his right. He quickly turned his head and spotted the source: a scowling dark haired women. With blue streaks to boot. For a moment Graham was shocked. There were other people here. He then shook his head. Of course there were. Why wouldn’t there be? It’s not like one uses a train to kidnap a single person. Unless, of course, they were like a head of state or something, and last time he’d checked, Graham was not one.

His thoughts flew by rapidly. An entire string of logic passed in a fraction of a second. Then his attention shifted back to the rude chick. For a moment he started to cut back, but he held his tongue at the last minute. Perhaps antagonizing someone you’ve just met in a strange location isn’t the brightest idea. He sucked in his breath, calmed down slightly, and started walking down the aisle towards his heckler. Along the way, he noticed plenty of people, all around his age, give or take a couple years. He felt slightly embarrassed for not having noticed, but his vision had just started clearing up. The faeries had gone away.

He stopped a seat before her, holding onto the chair to steady himself. Then, before he could even think of stopping it, his retort slid out.

[color=fdc68a]“Hey...my Koffing may be annoying, but I love the feller. Really airs out the lungs, y’know?”[/color] 

Graham wore a grin that stretched from ear to ear. He was kicking himself mentally. A Pokemon pun? A groan-inducing Pokemon pun that she’ll probably not even catch. That’s the best he could come up with. Slight disappointment wrapped it’s arms around him. Still, the smile endured. If he was going to be cheesy, might as well own it. But the sooner he could retreat from this failed engagement, the better. Probably.

Graham unknowingly grabbed a button on his blue and red flannel shirt, fiddling with it. He slid into an empty seat a few up from Alexis, by a window. His hand stopped playing with the button, slid through his red locks quickly, then finally settled on tugging at the bottom of his black tee-shirt emblazoned with the smiley face so commonly associated with Nirvana. Fear had receded into nervousness. And Graham’s natural response was to touch. Anything at all.

After a few moments, he sighed. [/centre]