Re: Disembarking: Jack/Heath
Heath was twenty-three and he'd seen a lot of shit, but he didn't look it and he knew it. He was not really bothered with the false impression of his age or experience when you were not related to him, and he'd never seen this man before. He found his phone, sniffed heavily like he was getting a cold, and shook some feeling into his fingers before he typed out a text to his sister.
"Kind of, but not really new," he said. "I haven't lived here since I was a kid and we didn't have any shit like this going on." He didn't talk like a kid; he didn't wait for Jack's physical response to what he said, trusting instead he would get a vocal response, and he was not making himself up for a good impression.
He just stood there. "I don't think I liked being someone else. You think it would be great but it was fucking terrible. Not that I was so bad, but..." he trailed off, lost for words, and looked down into the melting snow on the carpet under his feet. "I want off this train." He turned blindly. "Which way?"