[color=silver][center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190710/6e828fd28ffdc1a3166089ba07ba2b29.png[/img][/center] [right][hr][color=white][b][b]In Transit | Old Harbor-Smith's Rest Tramway[/b][/b][/color] January 16th, 2677[hr][/right] [indent][indent][indent]The tram was cramped, loud, stunk of dried urine and Demetrius couldn't decide which of those annoyed him the most. Whichever dumbass had designed the transport decided to shove twenty-eight seats into a box that could comfortably fit [i]maybe[/i] fifteen passengers; if there were actually enough people there to fill every seat, Demi was confident he would've chucked himself out of the emergency exit half an hour into it. Thankfully there were only seven or so of them, but that was still five too many in his humble opinion. Maybe it'd be more bearable if three seats down from him there wasn't a passed out drunkard that had soiled himself sometime since he got on the tram. The stench was bad enough, but then he had the audacity to start fucking [i]snoring.[/i] Every time he drew in air through that fat nose of his, Demi felt a primal desire to smother him into silence. [i][color=cdaf95]'I need to finish this before I actually snap.'[/color][/i] He thought, turning his attention back to the plastic and steel box he held in his palm. The front cover had been removed, revealing a mess of circuitry and wiring that it's creator had failed to organize in any reasonable way. It was such a haphazard design that Demi wasn't all that surprised it had just stopped working that morning when he stepped off the ship that had carried him from Vancouver to New Anchorage. Something about the bitter northern cold must've screwed with the internals, somehow. Honestly, though, he couldn't blame the AutoBeat for not wanting to work in a freezing hellscape like this. [i][color=cdaf95]'And here I thought Scandinavia was bad. Christ.'[/color][/i] [color=7f99f6]"You makin' any progress?"[/color] A familiar voice from just a seat over called, a slight, unintentional sing-songiness to it. Demetrius didn't look away from his work when he answered Mara, focusing on soldering a new diode into the music player. [color=cdaf95]"Mountains of it."[/color] She let out a slight chuckle, sliding over from her chair into the one directly next t him. [color=7f99f6]"Y'know, lil' brother, you could always talk to me to pass the time. Doubt you'll be done with that thing before we get to 'Rest anyway."[/color] [color=cdaf95]"I could, that's true,"[/color] Demetrius slid a pair of safety goggles over his eyes and plucked a mini-torch and a handful of electronic parts out of his toolkit. It was probably a bad idea to do this kind of sensitive work on a train, but he was bored out of his mind and it kept his hands busy. [color=cdaf95]"I won't. But I could."[/color] Mara gave an exasperated sigh and slunk down where she sat, moving her arms up to rest behind her head. [color=7f99f6]"You're a real dickhead sometimes, y'know that?"[/color] [color=cdaf95]"And you're a real airhead all the time. Nobody's perfect." [/color] [color=7f99f6]"It's just..."[/color] She sighed again, struggling to come up with the words that she wanted to use. Demetrius could see that she was flipping her old Black Steel ID tags between her fingers out of the corner of his eye, and he mentally braced himself for a painful and awkward conversation that neither of them really wanted to have; it was necessary, probably, but that wouldn't make it any better in the moment. [color=cdaf95]"Just spit it out already. No use floundering over phrasing."[/color] Mara shifted, her smile faltering somewhat. [color=7f99f6]"It's just that, like, the two of us are on our own now. For the first time...ever, really."[/color] She spoke softly, her eyes shifted down toward the metal she held in her digits, her own name staring back up at her. [color=7f99f6]"Nobody else we can rely on anymore 'cept each other. I figure that means we should probably learn to get along better, y'know? Learn how to talk to each other, and-"[/color] The sound of a heavy guitar rift and the pounding of drums suddenly filled the cabin, thundering out so loudly that it even managed to wake up the passed out drunk. [color=cdaf95]"Finally." [/color] Demi grinned and plugged his headset into the AutoBeat, cutting off the blaring music, much to the gratefulness of the two other passengers. [color=cdaf95]"Sorry, what were you saying?"[/color] She turned her head away from him, resting her cheek on the frost-covered glass of the tram's window. [color=7f99f6]"...Nothing."[/color] Demetrius shrugged and lifted his headset over his ears, grateful to have his music back. [/indent][/indent][/indent] [/color]