After Miss Sasha's rather severe welcome, 'Quin settled down a little more comfortably beside her and the pair engaged in some rather pleasant conversation."Er, well, I guess I'm a bit of a romantic. A hopeless romantic, I suppose. Well, more 'hopeless' than 'romantic', probably, but still. You know." 'Odd,' he thought to himself, 'she certainly doesn't seem to be a homicidal monster. Maybe she's one of those split personality people! Hm, I bet that's it. Fascinating. I owe it to science to investigate!' Starlequin grew more and more at ease as the two spoke companionably, and before long it was time to retire back to their cabins.
'Quin eyed the strange little smoking thingy that the others were passing between them; he attempted once or twice to ask if he might try the thing, but the other passengers' responses were depressingly chilly. 'Le sigh. Guess they still think I'm the killer. Oh, well, maybe they'll like me a little better if I wake up dead in the morning,' he thought. Dejected, his shoulders slumped, 'Quin elected to go to bed a little early and fell asleep after munching on some hard toffee dug out of his duffel.
The sunlight shining through the carriage windows woke him from a rather sound sleep, and for several moments he simply laid in the bed, wondering if this was how it felt to be dead. He'd never been dead before, and was slightly new to it. Then the last haze of sleep faded and 'Quin realized he was still among the living. Probably. 'But, if I'm still alive, and-' he stole a quick look around the carriage- 'and nobody else is dead, either, then...holy hell, it worked! I did it, I really talked down a murderer! Gee, guess I should write a book or something. Or maybe just do a talk show.'
And then the Concierge came over the intercom, and Starlequin's mood crashed like a plane full of widely beloved rock stars.
'Dear gods, another one?! Did I blink yesterday and walk into a Hitchcock story? But wait-Miss Sasha fell asleep before I did, I think, and I'm pretty sure nobody left the carriage last night. That means...*gasp!* There's another murderer on board!'
Starlequin dressed hurriedly and left the carriage on shaky legs, heading for the dining car. As he passed by the other carriages, he heard one of the passengers talking aloud to himself. 'Hmm, there's something off about that guy, there really is. Only crazy people talk to themselves like that.' 'You mean like this?' 'Exactly. No! Not like this, I'm not talking to myself!' 'And yet, we are having a conversation.' 'Yeah, but we're not...I mean...you know...we're doing it quietly, like normal folk!' 'Normal crazy folk, right. Of course.' 'Dammit, I am not crazy!' 'Sure, dude. You keep telling yourself that.' '...I don't like you.' 'Yet you keep me around.'
'Quin grumbled to himself as he found the dining car, keeping his head down so as to draw as little attention to himself as possible from the other passengers. Especially that Barnbean fellow.