Gordon awoke early as he always did. Sixty years of waking early to take the morning express made it nearly impossible for Gordon to sleep in. However, he usually didn't mind, after all the express must be pulled, came rain, shine, sleet, or hail. Today was not usual. Today he had a day off. Although the concept of engines being given time off had come to Sodor several years before, Gordon couldn't say he truly understood the appeal. Oh he didn't begrudge those that enjoyed the days off, he could certainly understand the goods engines' need for time away from their troublesome charges, but he was an express engine. Express work was difficult, requiring speed, precision, and stamina. It was perhaps the most difficult task an engine could be given. It was also freeing. Nowhere else did Gordon feel alive in the same way he did while at speed with his coaches, racing the wind itself towards his destination.
While the Express had occasionally not ran at times over the years, or it had been given to another engine, he had never missed the express because he was taking the day off...until now.
To his left, he could see Gracie being prepared by her crew for the express. It wasn't jealousy that had him feeling oddly out of sorts this morning, no matter what James said...or at least not as it once would have been. The steam turbine was a friend and had been his running mate for nearly two decades before she was moved to the Vicarstown-Mantauo run. So while he would admit to being envious of her, it was a weak and fleeting emotion, easily brushed aside in favor of his true discontent with being forced to take a day off.
When Henry had oh so helpfully asked what Gordon had enjoyed doing, his answer of "pulling expresses" had somehow only further convinced Sir Topham Hatt that he needed a day off. Gordon was an engine of action, and while listening to opera recordings while he waited for his next train or as he settled in for the night was enjoyable, he could not see himself doing it for longer than those periods.
He had briefly considered going to the works for maintenance and perhaps a repaint. Unfortunately, he had been recently given a tune-up, and any maintenance that could be achieved within a day was already done. Repainting wasn't an option either, while he had no doubt he could be repainted if he wished, his current coat of paint was still fresh enough James was using his reflection in it to check his own paint for blemishes.
He had known that approaching his shed mates with his problem would have only led to teasing, and likely would not have produced any usable results, so he had instead approached another engine. Their enthusiastic response had in no way encouraged him.
As if summoned by his thoughts, a quiet peep peep came from the yard as his guide for the day approached. Thomas rolled happily into view, oddly chipper for the early hour considering Thomas was famously not a morning engine. He was pushing a small flat track with an odd bucket on either end with pipes coming out of them towards the ends of the truck.
"Good morning Little Thomas, you seem to be in high spirits for such an early hour."
"It's a wonderful morning," Thomas hummed contentedly, as he buffered up to Gordon.
Gordon raised an eyebrow.
Thomas's driver snorted as she climbed down from his cab, "it's the coffee," She explained.
"Coffee," Gordon repeated dubiously. Whilst he was not as disdainful of human food or drink as certain red engines, he couldn't say he was an enthusiast by any means.
Thomas happily nodded, "A shop in Ffarquhar opened that served engines as well as people." The tank engine took a long sip from the pipe facing him, which Gordon now realized was straw for engines. "It's wonderful," he said with a happy sigh.
Samantha snorted as she coupled Gordon to the truck, "It certainly helps out with your mood in the mornings."
Thomas gave the engine equivalent of a shrug.
"I feel better with it. We also got one for you Gordon!"
Gordon eyed the container before him with suspicion.
"It's fine to drink." Samantha said, "Thomas has one every morning and the only side effect is an improved mood."
"Then Gordon needs three," Henry called as he rolled past on his way to the docks to collect the Flying Kipper.
Gordon wheeshed at him, but he only chuckled.
"It's okay if you don't like it." Thomas said seriously, "I know you're not the biggest fan of human food, but I tried to get something I thought you'd like."
Gordon sighed at his friend's nervous expression, knowing he'd at least have to try the drink.
Gordon took a slow hesitant pull from his straw. He expected it to taste like his firewoman's smelled, overpoweringly sweet and creamy. Instead, he got a rich, bitter, and dark flavor, nearly biting in its intensity, and pleasantly hot. When he had finished his sip, he eyed Thomas thoughtfully, "You say you get one of these every morning?"
Thomas nodded, "Yes. Sir Topham Hatt arranged for it to be ready when I arrive for my first train."
Nicole snorted from Thomas's cab, "but yours has enough sugar and creamer to drown someone.,
Gordon considered his coffee thoughtfully, "...I would not be averse to a similar arrangement."
As Thomas happily chattered away as he pulled Gordon from the sheds towards his branchline, Gordon let a fond smile grow on his face. Perhaps a day off wouldn't be amiss after all.
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