Re: Disembarking: Jack/Heath
Heath noticed that Jack (a decidedly un-aristocratic name) put his phone away and also that the other man didn't look worried. So either he didn't know anyone else that could be on the train, or they were fine and told him immediately. Heath thought it was probably the former, but he didn't say it. He already felt better now that Chris was chiming (default iMessage sound) through his phone, like everything was normal and he'd just had a bad dream.
Heath put his phone in his pocket. He wasn't dressed for the winter air that was out there, oblivious as usual, and instead layered with a windbreaker better suited to the Autumn that escaped two weeks ago. Otherwise it was black twill and a trim button-down picked out with geometric blues. He had been taught to pay attention to his clothing, and he still did, though not with natural affinity.
Automatically, Heath touched his face. He didn't know what the Digger had looked like. He'd just been him. Yoshiro Tsukeda. He could even say it, and feel the name be his. Heath shook a tremor out of his shoulders. Weird. "Bet I don't. You look different too. Scowl-ier." He didn't say it to be cruel, just as a truth he didn't think through. "This way?" He went the way Jack had originally indicated, eager to be off the train, yet not eager to be alone.
He skipped the step to the train and landed with both heels down on the pavement. Thank God. "Right," he said. "Let's go to my place and have a drink and something to eat. I want out of here." Expectant look at Jack. "You got a ride here, or should I call an Uber?"