The train station was loud in that particular way they always were — a hundred conversations layered over the constant drone of announcements nobody actually listened to. Eleanore stood near the departure gate, arms crossed loosely, watching her brother wrestle with the bags they had brought. The amount was almost unimaginable and the weight was beyond the limit.
Eleanore watched her brother arguing with the station master. Stella tries to stop him, before Eleanore steps between the station master and him.
"You're going to miss the train arguing with that bag," she said.
"I'm not arguing. I'm negotiating." Hael finally shoved it into place and turned to face her, grinning the way he always did right before he said something he knew would annoy her. "You could try smiling, you know. It's my honeymoon, not a funeral."
"I am smiling."
"That's your tired face. I know the difference."
