It was nice to be warned ahead of time he'd need to pick someone up at the station, and it was even nicer than it didn't happen in the dead of night. Xavier was leaning back against the car, hands in his pockets as he watched the passers-by, and then the people stepping out of the station after the mid-afternoon train arrived. He was dressed in his footman's livery (save the gloves), but wore a coat over it, to ward off what was faint cold to a Belailles boy.
A smile broke across his face when he spotted the woman he had come to pick up, and he pushed away from the car, pulling his hands out of his pockets. "Ophelia, hi," he greeted her warmly, quickly crossing the distance between them to relieve her of the bags she was carrying.