[this took longer than I expected >_<]
There's a considerable exodus at the Summerbridge station; relatively few people are bound for rustic Everdale this late in the day. It's only a handful of newcomers that board, but they're a colorful lot (one florid woman looks like she's on break from a living history museum, the frill of her mobcap drooping as she squints at her cell phone). Among them Cassian is comfortably nondescript, a youngish, sober-looking man whose jacket wants patching.
He drops smoothly into a seat near the back of the car, leaning back a little as they get under way. It's a later train than his usual. Eyes half-closed - he is pretty tired - he takes quick stock of the other occupants, only to find the kid across the aisle looking boldly back at him.
Cassian raises his eyebrows, softens it with a half-grin: "What?"