♡ ･ﾟ: * ｡ ❪ @vileurge. ❫ ⁄ ♡’d.
yukako stood in front of the train station, features hardened to represent an aggravated visage. she had been waiting out here, alongside at least a handful of other people but most notably a brute of a man. if she looked up at the 6 foot tall man, he reminded her of king: in height ( not in exact height and inches, just the fact that he was tall ), blond hair and blue eyes. that, she reckoned, was where their similarities ended.
❛ this train operator… ❜ yukako murmured, her head turning to and fro in hopes of seeing the familiar sight of the train. it wasn’t the first time the train has been late ━━ this conclusion was not based on experience, yukako only rode it every so often. she’s heard such a statement from those who did ride the train often, and are sick of having to wait an thirty extra minutes.
her head raised and, with a huff, she continued. ❛ he deserves to be fired. ❜
GOD FUCKING DAMMIT, is this operator fucking stupid or something? The entire bloody reason he takes the train is that it gets him where he needs to be IN TIME, not THIRTY FUCKING MINUTES past arrival. He’s a working man, and chances are the people on the platform are working or going to school or SOMETHING TIME SENSITIVE! If a crash or a malfunction happens, they should PLAN FOR IT!
In contrast to his apoplectic inner monologue, Victor’s expression is bland, almost absent. Occasionally, he’ll shift in place from foot to foot, checking the station clock, and fiddle with the strap of his lunch bag. There’s people around him muttering to each other, but none of them address him. He likes it that way. Or rather, people tend to like it when he doesn’t talk.
He’s in the middle of daydreaming about strangling the train driver and cutting out his kidneys when a voice pulls him out of his reverie. Victor blinks, and glances at the girl next to him. She’s pretty, Asian, with long, dark hair. The only thing detracting from her -- well, not detracting. But the set of her severely arched brows and the subtle curl of her lip imply something far deeper than a simple pretty face.
Victor watches her, visage still impassive. “ He does. I don’t even know how he got the job. ” A glance up at the clock again, and sighs through his nose. “ I wish they’d tell us what’s going on. ”
