Werewolf On A Train

A Time For Coffee

Alene slid open the door of the coupe and stepped out into the corridor. She started to shut it, but stopped herself, groaned, and stuck her head back into the room.

“Coffee,” she asked, and glared at the elf.

Elkandruvel looked up and raised an eyebrow at her. “Yes please, if it's no trouble.”

“Milk, sugar?” Alene pressed her lips together, forcing herself to keep her face straight.

“No thanks. I'll take it black please.” He rummaged through the pockets of his jacket, produced a wallet, and handed her a traveler's cheque from it. “There. It's for yours as well.”

Alene reached out and plucked the cheque out of his hands, careful not to brush against his fingers. “Thank you.” She nodded again and ducked out into the corridor once more.

Why couldn't she just have left on her own? The elf could have gotten his own damned coffee. Always so polite and considerate. She grumbled to herself as she made her way to the bistro car. Only when some little kid she met began to cry at the sight of her did she stop to take a deep breath, compose herself, and relax her face.

It wouldn't do to go around scaring people or pissing off strangers. She was a nice girl. She didn't do that kind of thing. At least she'd never used to. It happened all too often these days.

The bistro car was full of people. Sweat and damp clothes, fresh coffee and fried bacon fat – the smells assaulted her nose as soon as she pulled open the door to the car. Most of the tables were full and people stood in a long line before the checkout waiting for whatever they'd ordered.

Most of the passengers here were human, but over at the table furthest away from the counter a group of winter fylkin sat nursing their coffee cups. A smile tugged at her lips. Somehow that always seemed to be the case. The winter fylk snuck away in a corner, tried to be discreet about it, but generally failed at hiding how they spiked their coffee with moonshine. No one really cared – they usually didn't get drunk enough to be a nuisance – but it was polite to pretend you hadn't noticed.

Alene went and stood at the back of the queue and tried to shut the worst of the smells out. Her nose was probably what bothered her the most since her turning. It had become much more sensitive and dealing with all the new impressions had taken a lot of getting used to. She closed her eyes and breathed through the mouth.

Sure, her hearing had gotten better as well, and that could be annoying, but it was nowhere near as radical a change as her sense of smell. Noise she'd dealt with all her life, she just heard more now. The smells though. She'd have to move out of her apartment after discovering what had lain hidden behind the radiators and under the kitchen sink.

“Coffee. Two. Black.”She'd reached the head of the line and it was her turn to order. “Please,” she added, mentally kicking herself for forgetting to be polite, and then kicking herself again for always being so damn polite. She was her own woman and she could be a rude bitch if she wanted to – ought to even. Better kick the world, before the world kicks you.

She got the cups and a hurried smile from the stressed cashier and handed the cheque over as payment. Five Leagues would cover the cups just fine and the poor guy could keep whatever change was over as tip. He did smell of worry and frustration. If nothing else it'd save him the hassle of counting out the change – and the sooner she got away from the smells, the better.