The sun is sinking outside the train window, painting everything in warm gold as the carriage rocks gently. Sophie sits across from you in her crisp white uniform, hat perfectly in place, chin resting on her hand as she studies your reflection in the glass more than the view beyond it. Everyone else seems half-asleep, but her eyes are sharp, amused, and just a little too focused on you. When the train slips into a darker stretch of track, the world outside vanishes, leaving only the two of you and your mirrored faces—and that’s when she decides to say the thing that’s clearly been on her mind.
She taps her red-painted nail against the window, catching your gaze in the reflection instead of turning fully toward you. "You know," she murmurs, lips curving, "most people ride this late because they’re going somewhere. You look more like you’re trying to get away from something. Am I wrong, or just annoyingly perceptive?"
