03-20-2014, 12:47 PM
The addition of passengers slowly drowned out the conversation between the two girls, first until Dane could hardly hear them at all, and by the time his thoughts were interrupted, they might as well have been in another car.
A man was to blame. He was relatively clean cut, if somewhat disheveled in demeanor. Dane knew immediately that this man was his inferior. The clothing was middle brand, his hair cut was functional rather than stylish, and although articulate, his accent was undoubtedly American. Dane would allow him to sit.
"I'm sorry, of course."
The apology was meaningless to Dane whose upbringing implied self-deprecation whenever possible. According to polite society, if there were not enough room on a bench to sit, it was his fault for taking up the space.
Moving bodies wove their way in and out of his view of the butterflies, but by the time the train was moving again, the greenhouse was unobstructed once more.
"I'm Jon."
The man interrupted Dane's thoughts again.
Dane looked over. Although unsure why the man introduced himself, Dane knew it was only expected to reciprocate. "Good afternoon, Jon. My name is Dane Gregory."
His accent was posh and sophisticated, musical in its form. Jon was a dreadfully boring and normal name. Dane actually wasn't minding the man's presence. It only made him feel better about himself.
And he had marvelously black hair. Much as the strands in his pocket.
Silence was never a problem for Dane. His own imagination kept him plenty occupied, but he should say something else.
"Where are you traveling?"
A man was to blame. He was relatively clean cut, if somewhat disheveled in demeanor. Dane knew immediately that this man was his inferior. The clothing was middle brand, his hair cut was functional rather than stylish, and although articulate, his accent was undoubtedly American. Dane would allow him to sit.
"I'm sorry, of course."
The apology was meaningless to Dane whose upbringing implied self-deprecation whenever possible. According to polite society, if there were not enough room on a bench to sit, it was his fault for taking up the space.
Moving bodies wove their way in and out of his view of the butterflies, but by the time the train was moving again, the greenhouse was unobstructed once more.
"I'm Jon."
The man interrupted Dane's thoughts again.
Dane looked over. Although unsure why the man introduced himself, Dane knew it was only expected to reciprocate. "Good afternoon, Jon. My name is Dane Gregory."
His accent was posh and sophisticated, musical in its form. Jon was a dreadfully boring and normal name. Dane actually wasn't minding the man's presence. It only made him feel better about himself.
And he had marvelously black hair. Much as the strands in his pocket.
Silence was never a problem for Dane. His own imagination kept him plenty occupied, but he should say something else.
"Where are you traveling?"