He entered the red engine and was immediately swamped by noise, it was practically unbearable and overloaded his senses, making him uncomfortable. He just wished he had Earl by his side to calm him down, cats can do wonders for Trauma-ridden children, really. He quickly slunk between the throws of students, flinching slightly when someone's hands brush him on his shoulder. He soon found his way out of the crowed of people, much to his relief, and found a relatively quiet car. He settled down and stuck his luggage in the compartment above his seat.
Pulling out a sketch pad he continued drawing the image of his therapy cat, the words Earl Grey scrawled beneath the cluster of circles connected by fine strokes of graphite giving the appearance of fur. He was currently working on the stout, triangular head of the cat perched elegantly above the incomplete body curving the cat into a sitting position, most likely. Semi-large ears perched on top the elegant skull, looking quite realistic. His pencil followed the strokes of the slanted, hazelnut eyes of his mind's picture, fine details already appearing, and the lids were now lazily half-closed, giving it a sleepy but aloof facial expression.
He was startled out of his intense focus when a voice spoke beside him, the tone as if whoever was communicating sounding like they had repeated his name more than once.
He looked up to see a woman, adult, dressed in servant's attire, with a terse smile on her lips. Brown, unremarkable hair framed her slim face, and seemed to draw one's attention to her green eyes. She was pushing a tray of food with an assortment of beverages and edibles on display for the viewer to drool over.
He was no such person, and just looked at the goods with impassive eyes, which snapped up when the waitress let out a attention-demanding, but polite cough.
"Ah, sir, would you like something to eat, drink perhaps?" she spoke in a quiet but audible voice.
He looked at her blankly for a moment, before slowly turning to look at the foods. Chocolate frogs, Acid pops, licorice wands, cockroach clusters, and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans adorned the top of the trolley. Whereas the bottom held empty glasses he assumed filled with whatever drink you asked.
"Hmm, I'd just like a Dr. Pepper please," Azaiah stated in a monotone. The Trolley's eyebrow quirked up, but she took a cup from the bottom and filled it up with a tap of a wand, the fizzing drink made his eyes lock onto the it as if craving it with all his might. She smirked and handed him his drink which, he took gratefully and he then pulled out the right amount of coin needed, handing it to her absently, which she took with a small upturn of amusement on her lips. Azaiah ignored her, and she walked away at sometime, he didn't notice or care, too busy savoring the soda and sipping it through his mask, somehow. He looked out the window beside him with lazy, half-lidded eyes. They were still in the station, apparently he had got there earlier then expected, and he was slightly surprised by the fact, but shrugged and continued drinking his favorite beverage, and continuing with the minute details of his cat's head on the sketchpad, an open pencil case beside him. He preferred pencils and pencil crayons to silly quills.
He had hoped he'd be left alone with the one other student in the back, quietly ignoring him, and he doing the same in return. Sadly, the blissful silence didn't last.
Last edited by Azaiah Morgos on 1st October 2018, 4:43 am, edited 1 time in total.