Victor's ears twitched in Nils's direction when he called himself the "vanquisher of wolves" and he knew this was the son of a pig. Not surprising considering how loud and obnoxiously he devoured Johnson's offering right beside him. This also probably meant a difficult relationship between him and Nils. Parent's problems seemed to be hereditary. Everyone else was quite silent apart from some phone clicking and...pencil scratching? Victor raised his head just high enough to peak over his bag and see who was the artist among them. The young lady in the wheelchair had a sketch forming in front of her, but he could not see it from this angle. For a minute Victor tried looking at her eyes to try and catch its reflection, heart racing at the thought that those deep, determined pupils could look back at any moment. 

Then the cart stopped. The single door on the carriage, left of Victor, flung open and a young boy who looked like he needed a peg leg started to step in. When he asked for a seat, Victor started to shuffle himself to the right closer to Johnson and Nils. That sardine feeling was coming back. Then he made a small nod to the new window seat he had created to his left.

Victor scanned the children to see what they might think of this, and saw the girl in the wheelchair glaring in his direction. His eyes shot down, and he began to set his head back on his bag as to hide the red that was surely lining his face. Did she catch him staring? Did she know the whole time?