[right][h2][color=999999]Lost in Translation[/color][/h2][@silver21][@Stanifly][@Auragreedia][/right]

[color=808080]The man—Westbound, now, it seems—nods at Morgan's suggestion. It isn't as if he could stop them. And it is infinitely better than being someone without a name.

A no one.

His expression darkens, gaze drifting somewhere past the noise and the writhing crowd, into a private memory. A familiar ache given shape. It holds him for only a moment before Teresa cuts through.

The steel in her voice is sharper now, colder for the contrast against her earlier calm. Westbound flinches at the shift. His expression crumples, closer to shame, and he turns away from her entirely, unable or unwilling to meet her eyes.

He shakes his head.

No, he doesn't know what happens if the music stops. He has never tried to stop it. Has never even left this seat since he arrived—just... settled into the background. Melted into it. It was easier that way.

Out there, no one ever cared about him.

In here, he could still be part of something, even from the edges.[/color]