[ Irving snaps out of his slight walking (well, fine: sitting, at this current moment) stupor when he realizes, only somewhat belatedly, that someone's speaking to him-- someone's speaking to him, on this train, which means his guard immediately flies up before he's even processed the words themselves.
He hasn't the slightest clue if he's missed his stop, actually. Irving only barely knows what "his stop" is even supposed to be.
Finally he looks over, blinking slowly as he assess the man warily in silence, his eyes retaining a wide and startled-looking quality brought out by the pale color of his irises. ]
Who are you?
[ Which of course answers neither question, but good manners aren't exactly Irving's priority at the moment. ]
no subject
He hasn't the slightest clue if he's missed his stop, actually. Irving only barely knows what "his stop" is even supposed to be.
Finally he looks over, blinking slowly as he assess the man warily in silence, his eyes retaining a wide and startled-looking quality brought out by the pale color of his irises. ]
Who are you?
[ Which of course answers neither question, but good manners aren't exactly Irving's priority at the moment. ]