'Quin was seated at the bar sipping another glass of Scotch, watching from the window as Miss Beguile was less than politely ejected from the train. He imagined the others would no doubt suspect him of enjoying a sense of triumph, but circumstances were too depressing to provide much cause to celebrate. Upon the Concierge's announcement concerning the certainty of Beguile's Mistress's innocence, however, 'Quin's funk turned from gloomy to downright miserable. Already he could hear the other passengers whispering behind his back, and he hunched over the bar and poured himself into his glass.
'Damn, damn, double-damn! That means...ugh! Why, God? Why are the beautiful ones all homicidal maniacs? Is it just me? Huh? Is it me? Do I just have that kind of luck, or did I burn the Vatican in a past life?' A small whimper escaped him, and he pressed the ice-cold glass against his forehead. 'Ah, I should'a known that Sasha was a cold-blooded murderer. The fact she flirted with me should have tipped me off; I haven't been able to attract a normal woman since Lisa Miskowski told everyone that the voices in her head told her to marry me back in the third grade. Hm, wonder if she ever made parole? Do they even give you parole in a mental institution?' 'Quin sighed again and slumped on his stool, motioning for the bartender to pour him another.
He was about to lose himself in his new glass when he heard a strange sniffling sound behind him, coming from one of the corner windows. Starlequin turned just enough to glance at Sasha, sitting alone in the corner with a paperback novel in her hands, and--what was that? Was that...oh, empty night, it was.
A tear, glistening on her pale, lovely cheek.
'Quin spun back around to the bar, hoping she hadn't noticed him looking, and stared morosely into his scotch, his entire body rigid with tension. 'Whatwhatwhat is she crying about, she's a murderer! A killer! A psychopath!' He shrugged to himself as a counter argument formed in his mind. 'So? What, killers can't have feelings?' 'But she murdered a woman! In cold blood! And then blamed an innocent woman for it!' 'Well, to be honest we don't know it was actually in cold blood. And besides, now that BeMi is gone, she's probably the only other person on board this train that knows how it feels to be wrongly accused of a crime.' 'She wasn't wrongly accused! She was rightly accused! Rightly!' 'Well I know that, and she knows that, but everyone else is just guessing, aren't they? You know, I really think we should go over there and talk to her. It might cheer her up. And maybe if she's cheered up, she won't kill us if we wind up in the same car again.' 'That is the stupidest plan I've ever heard and why am I talking to myself like this anyway people will think I'm crazy!' 'One, it's not stupid, it's brilliant, two, it's because I'm a sparkling conversationalist and you enjoy my company, and three, nobody's gonna know you talk to yourself now shut up and get over there!'
Starlequin shook his head and grabbed his drink, spun from the bar and edged close to Sasha in the corner. Gingerly he took a seat nearby and cradled his glass in his hands, speaking quietly, his head slightly hung. "Um...so. I-interesting morning, huh?" He said, ready to jump up and run at her slightest motion and wailing silently to himself.
'Aw, hell, I'm gonna die...'