Alex hesitated for a moment before resigning to the final task of the ever lengthening afternoon and gave a cautious knock. He didn't wait for an answer, but rather pulled open the shop's door and slid in. "Hello?"
Boxes upon boxes with trunks laden on trunks were stacked far and tall among the reception room. A simple desk sat before a small archway to another unknown room. Haphazard papers were strewn across the floor leaving dust tracks in their wake. While the build up of dirt and grit definitely gave the junction a decrepit illustration it was obvious that there was in fact life here. And recently.
The stairwell to the left was left open, a faint light glowing from below. It was comforting yet foreboding all at once. Suddenly there was a rather gruff voice beckoning from below. It was gravely and most definitely alcohol induced. "I can hear you, so please hurry on down so we can get this over with in haste."... It was also quite brusque. There was a definite tell tale sound of glass shattering below the junction and a stream of curses following
Alex inspected the room for a moment, almost critical in his hypocritical evaluation. It almost looked akin to his own office – complete with the frank demands from the voices that be. “I’m coming, sir-“ the shatter of glass hastened his pace as he approached the stairwell. The dimly lit corridor did nothing to inspire confidence in him as he delicately fingered the railing and began an unsteady descent. Thankfully the voyage into the dark was a short affair and the ice blue eyes quickly adjusted to the lighting and lack of. The indistinct silhouette of the one who’d beckoned him directed, if not demanded, his attention as he stepped down onto the flat of solid earth. There, he quickly made his way over and did what seemed perfectly natural for what he’d come for. He held up his ticket and flicked the edge of it, nonverbal questions about just what he’d been called down into this unheard of dwelling.
Johnathan sat in all his wonder atop a poorly made raft, so poorly one would assume it was just a pile of smartly laid out sticks. He kept a gatsby cap over his eyes and he was nursing a second glass, the first laying in shards across the pavement, of what one would assume to be vodka. Unfortunately alcohol at this current point in his health would be a rather suicidal idea... The glass was full of water and the man was all the more grumpy for it.
He heard the rustling of a sharply dressed man and immediately felt only slight abhorrence to him. Deftly he raised the cap revealing an ominous eye patch and a single auburn eye. Johnathan sniffed, hand reaching up to straggle at his beard. There was a sharp glance around the junction, immediately checking the ticket box area and the clipboard area then back to the smartly dressed but oh so annoying man area above him.
"You called me sir..." Johnathan stated, not leaving his reclined state. "If you're so eager to please. Please! Do my routine for me." He finally sat up, grabbing the nearest pebble. "Throw this at the window," He said pointing to the old ticket box. "Say something illegal in at least three countries and then get back to me." He finished with a sip before slamming back down onto the raft.
It would have been a good laugh if this was some prank. Alex had a sense of humor, sure he did. After all, one had to learn to laugh at themselves, right? Too bad that the decidedly bitter, sarcastic remarks confirmed that this wasn’t some well-thought-out jest but the work of some mentally taciturn loon. Alex shifted his weight from one foot to the next before he finally shrugged in deference to the whole thing.
His own ire for the man was coming up rather well as the man berated him. Alex crumpled the ticket between his fingers for a moment before slipping it into the box. “There. It’s in the box. Now is there anything else I can get for you, SIR?” If it had so bothered him and he’d insisted on dragging him out here on his off-hours, Alex had no qualms about emphasizing that irked phrase.
Besides the grizzled appearance of his porter, he couldn’t suppress his desire to look about the place. What in the world was something like this even doing down here? And why were they sending out rather ancient looking scraps to people? It didn’t even look as though the place had been occupied by any but the single soul that remained. "It suits you." The comment came rather more as a thought to himself than as to the man, though he was sure the sentiment was not shared.
Johnathan wearily watched the man shift about until he reached the ticket box. The synapse was too far apart for Johnathan to realize with enough time what it was Alex was attempting to do. "Wai-wai-wait!" He attempted to call out, halt and cease the problem before it occurred but Johnathan was too slow. And what was worse, his empty eye socket was begining to ache. He solemnly bit down on his lip and taking a deep breath, promising to whatever deity might be listening that he would not wring this man's neck. "You shouldn't have done that."
He stood quickly, ignoring the suited comment and the critical looks, and marched straight towards Alex. "Excuse me, MISS." He accentuated the label towards the man. "Because you're acting every bit like a hormonal girl, tauting about and shoving things where they really ought not belong." Johnathan shot a finger out towards the wooden box. "Nothing goes in there, nothing has and nothing is supposed to."
He then strutted over to the clipboard and conductor's podium where a worn travel log rested. "I'm supposed to jot down very important information here." There was a beat and a breath, possibly a counting to ten before Johnathan lowered his voice and glared out from behind his patched eye. "Now if you would like to leave soon I suggest you get me the ticket." He tapped his foot for good measure.
Little did the audience know that the box had long since popped open, not accepting the ticket handed to it. An easy task for Alex yet had it been Johnathan... Let us leave it that he is not the luckiest soul.
Alex seemed aware of just what he'd done as soon as the man began to fuss over it. He shook his head a bit and looked back at the box. "Why did you tell me to go put it in, if you didn't want it in there?" Well, beside the fact that in some way he had pissed him off. That didn't much matter now though as the ticket had to get out of the box. "Look, fine, I'll get it out. Just stop with the 'miss' and I'll stop calling you 'sir'. I'll get it out and be on my way...whatever the hell your name is."
As he gave closer inspection, the box was already open - mocking the amount of drama placed in such a small matter. With, thankfully, no further problems, he plucked out the ticket and offered it to the man. "There you go. It was open all the time, so can we please get on with this? I don't even know why I'm here - or how you got this thing in my box." The latter because the man did not readily look as one might let into a high end facility...or a low-end one at that, especially coupled with that attitude.
The box slammed shut with and audible snap as soon as Alex's fingers had drifted away with the ticket allowing Johnathan to give the man a very sardonic look. He wanted to point out that he merely asked Alex to put up a huff as per Johnathan's signature for when guardians come questing into the basement but now he grew tired of the tantrums and certainly didn't want to exert anymore energy. He merely snatched the ticked and scribbled down a few notes as he said he would. "My name is," He mumbled as he finished a sentence, punctuated with a forceful period. "Nothing that concerns you." He smiled as he glanced up from the board before tossing it onto a nearby bench.
Johnathan brusquely opened a small journal type log and made another note before skimming through a column. "You will be row 20, aisle seat." He glanced at the isolated tracks, no where to go, no where to come from. both ends of the junction were firmly blocked with concrete and rubble. "I won't even guess the time as she never liked me."
"Fair enough." he concluded. He merely watched as the man scribbled down his required information before their eyes...eye...met again. This time he smiled a bit, having found some peace between them for now. Granted, he still had no idea just what he was in for with this person, this place. His gaze followed the observation of the porter and made note of the layout of the junction. Such a quandary...
Alex watched the tracks for a few minutes before straying near to them. There he again observed the concrete rubble, at a loss for what he meant. His shoulders rose and fell a short ways before he turned back toward him. "I don't see how a train would be able to stop here - there's rubble blocking the tracks. Won't it be damaged trying to get through?"
No sooner had Alex finished speaking a loud screech could be heard elsewhere. The tell tale sound of a steam engine racing full blast into the station was more than obvious. A scent filled the area, vaguely of ozone before the aroma of a bustling city settled across the station. There was a shout and a cringe from Johnathan as he glowered at a very large red steam engine, gold emblazoned letters across her side spelling out 'the NAVIAT'. The grumpy man merely went back to his once raft, now a pink blow up flamingo that was deflating quickly, and lay across it.
One by one the doors from the impossible train opened with a gentle click, allowing entrance
Alex was aghast at the sight. For a few moments he merely beheld the engine in all its glory for being, and being there against such obstacles. How or where eluded him. Rather, the first thing come to mind was the prior statement issued. Row 20, aisle seat. What would be waiting for him? He sought to ask the other, but the man seemed more preoccupied with his own matters.
So, left to his own devices, he began. One by one he glanced at the train's contents until he came upon the edging of the compartment. He straightened his attire, as if anticipating something of significance to happen, and stepped forward in through the door.
As Alex tread through the aisle, narrow and red very much like the outer shell, he would note a clearing in the scent of city smog. The smoke gave way to a blast of fresh air. 1…2…10…20… aisle seat. The engine gave a whirl as if humming in appreciation. There, sitting nonchalantly on the edge of his seat was a small flaxen child. Bright blue eyes glanced up at the man, a spitfire grin pointedly lit up the small cabin. He adjusted his Gatsby cap and clicked his shoes a bit in anticipation.
The twilight zone had apparently been triggered by his entrance into the strange compartment. The child looked like a younger him, though he couldn't place that expression. Alex took a few steps closer and stopped, eyeing the child. What the heck was he supposed to -
"Poppa?" - ok, hold on, what? The boy's smile grew, if possible and he pushed himself up and towards Alex. "Poppa?" livid pools of anxious optimism stared up at him, silencing the rebuttal his mind had prepared. No! He wasn't this kid's poppa. He was GAY for the sake of stuff, and children were not on his agenda as such. Alex laced his fingers amongst his platinum tresses and shook his head in suspended belief at this. "Wha...how long have you been on this train, kid?"
The boy shook his head and flicked the brim of his cap. "No, Poppa, my name's Oliver. Just Oliver, ok?" "That still doesn't answer the question..." an expectant look, "Oliver." That would do, though the answer was little more than a shrug. "Always, until now." Until him. Oliver gently grabbed at Alex's sleeve and tugged, eager for the attention. "Where do we live Poppa?"
Alex shook his head and turned to leave, finding that he was not so easily relented as the boy still clung to him as he departed from the train. "I live in an apartment. You...I'm...We are not a we. I am an I - and you are..." Alone. Forsaken. Forgotten? Oh jeeze, damn his conscience. Alex turned on his heel to meet Oliver again. The kid didn't seem to be phased by the reluctance of his new found 'Poppa'. Rather, he was persistent. "Do I have my own room, Poppa? I've...never had my own room..."
Ouch...talk about a tug at the heartstrings. He winced before nodding a bit. He had an office..that would work, for now. Until he found this kids real parents. The porter had to know something. With the kid placated with the idea of his own room, Alex moved back to the desk and tried to keep it out of Oliver's sound range as he motioned to the man. "Hey, hey....Do you know where this boy's parents are? He said he's been alone in that car for a while so would you know anything about them?"
Johnathan, now draped across what appeared to be a poorly made row boat, merely uncovered his eye and flicked his gaze over to Alex. With a small huff, a stretch, a groan and a sigh he sat up, back aching. "Why must I always get the annoying ones?" He questioned to himself, barely a murmur off of his lips. Johnathan gave a small snort at the question, realizing he never could quite win.
"When receiving a child off of a mysterious train, it is to the man outside more likely a drunk hobo, you ask 'Where are his parents?' ? Intelligence doesn't run in your family does it." A sniff and a scratch of the arm. "Must be genetic. Well. Back to our little conundrum. The question is, Miss, are you ready to act as his father or will you leave him with me and the train." Another pause as Johnathan looked out over the train tracks, now empty of any large steam engine contraption. "Which is now gone."
Johnathan looked over at the boy and gave a frightening sneer before a ridiculous grin. He fiddled with his eye patch and sat up more in his changing boat. With a calming breath the gruff man was able to settle a tad. "Please excuse me young sir, your mother is being a bit daft. Now, who are you and what's your favorite color?"
He took a glance back at Alex. "Now you'll know what color to paint his room."A bright smile morphed into a face of thin lined lips and glowering eye. "Now leave before I confiscate the cargo."
Manners didn't run in the other's family, but Alex didn't say anything. There was some truth to it after all - why the hell would he know? Well...besides being the one who 'spawned' the train. He shook his head a little, hoping to clear it, only to have his own train of thought leave the station.
Oliver was not so muddled about the affair. He winked up at the older man and flicked the brim of his cap. "My name's Oliver and my favorite color is green. Be nice to my Poppa, ok?" He then hugged back onto Alex's arm, nuzzling against him possessively. The sentiment was seemingly contagious. "Yeah..." The cap was promptly pushed down as a free hand came into play, scruffing it a bit as the decision was made.
The faint traces of a smile tugged at the administrative assistant's lips as he nodded once to the man and started off, this time accommodating the boy's pace. "Green, huh? I guess that settles it." Oliver lit up like a firecracker at that, giving a leap of excitement, his happy ramblings could still be heard - even as they topped the stairs. "Really, Poppa?! I can have my own room and it can be green?!" "As long as it isn't lime green..." They continued out of the shop, leaving the child's last musing to linger, "I love you, Poppa!!"
