Several hours passed on the train.
Cynthia fell asleep after talking with Trafalgar for most of the journey, their conversation drifting between serious things and lighter ones until exhaustion finally caught her. Her head had ended up against his shoulder, her breathing slow, one hand resting near the bag on her lap. Trafalgar did not move her. He only sat there, watching the scenery rush past the window, thinking that he wanted to kiss her. More than that, if he was being honest with himself. But wanting something and taking the next step were different matters, and for once, he did not feel like rushing ahead just because the path had opened.
