Oren did not get seated with Sia on the train the next morning, which absolutely heralded the kind of day he was going to have.

Oren had come up from his room beneath the guild to find Sera in the process of handing out tickets, and when she'd given Oren his she'd made sure to tack on that the seating arrangements were non-negotiable. Which didn't stop him from trying to barter his way into Sia's compartment, but that effort met with a swift death the moment someone (Cross) accused him of having feelings, because he'd had to shut that shit down immediately.

So it was in no way his fault that he got stuck in the train car that already housed Rhett, Waverly, and the annoying third to their ridiculous love triangle. Not that Rhett was really involved in anything right now; Waverly, apparently still suffering ill effects from the concrete she'd eaten weeks ago, was curled up on the bench seat, half-sprawled across Kier, who carded his hands through her hair and spoke softly to her in hushed tones.

Rhett, on the other hand, sat next to Oren on the opposite bench, passing his fingers over the raised lettering of a book he'd pulled out minutes after the train departed from the station, his sightless gaze settled slightly to the left of the window on Oren's other side.

Oren was so, so very uncomfortable.

He didn't pretend to understand why Rhett or Waverly put up with Kier's mood swings, and he flat out refused to care why they were apparently content to more or less be ignored when he wasn't in their particular mode. Waverly at least had the excuse of underdeveloped social skills; for all Oren knew, she thought the whole thing was normal.

Rhett, though. Rhett made no sense.

Oren groaned quietly into his shoulder, tucked as far into the corner of the seat as he could get without becoming one with the window pane. This had been going on for hours. He wasn't surprised, only irritated, but seeing as that was his near-constant state of being, no one attempted to ease his suffering. He didn't mind Rhett, really; the man was always polite to him, and friendly enough when they somehow found themselves in conversations. Waverly, too, he could deal with, seeing as she barely spoke to anyone that wasn't Kier and that suited Oren fine. But Kier... Gods, Oren couldn't stand him.

When he finally mustered the courage (and patience) to look up, Kier was looking down warmly at Waverly, who had evidently fallen asleep. Rhett's focus hadn't left his book; he passed his fingers over the raised letters with surprising speed, mouthing along with whatever he was reading. Oren thought it was an unconscious act, and didn't comment on it. But every so often he'd pause, fingers curling up into his palm. He'd bite his lip, looking on the verge of speaking up, and then the moment would pass and he'd exhale, shaking his head as he resumed reading.

Oren almost wished he'd say something, because it was getting painful to watch, and Kier never so much as glanced in Rhett's direction. The tension was stifling, and yet everyone but Oren seemed utterly unaffected by it. Which was infuriating, so much so that Oren was back to considering the merits of just — leaving. Finding an open spot in literally any other compartment and hunkering down until they reached the capital. Lock and Varya would be together, and that wasn't a bad combination, all things considered, but then there was the chance that Sky was with them. Hawthorne, Gideon, and Sage were another option, but Sky could also be there, and really it was not worth the risk to Oren's sanity to play that guessing game.

He managed to content himself by staring out the window at the passing scenery - a blur of greens and browns and blues, interspersed with the more violent colors of towns and people and civilization in general. He missed Wisteria, he missed Starry Rose, and not for the first time he wondered why he was even coming along to the tourney. He wasn't participating, and he'd hardly be the first choice if they needed a backup. Really, he could have remained behind with the other disinterested members and watched for news of how his guild did when compared to more famous powerhouses, and whatever the hell Polar Fox was.

Sia'd told him about how strange Cross had seemed about the mysterious guild, though he'd bluntly asked her why she cared to explain the situation to him when he could and would do nothing about it; she'd rolled her eyes and smacked his arm, but hadn't pressed the issue.

But there was no use dwelling on that, or his unhappiness at being shepherded along for the ride to Isyana. He had more important matters to attend to, anyway - like how he was going to survive another four hours trapped in a confined space with the subjects of Starry Rose's most anticlimactic romantic drama.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Kier finally lift his head. His eyes flitted over Rhett, catching the flex of his fingers this time, and his expression turned pensive.

"Rhett," he said, and Rhett nearly jumped in his seat, startled by the sudden use of his name. His fingers twitched atop the braille. "What is it you're reading? I'm curious, since it's had you enthralled for a while now."

Oren watched as Rhett's violet eyes flicked to Kier, as if he could see the almost unreadable expression the green-haired mage wore and wasn't very impressed by it. Unlike Oren, though, Rhett smiled.
"It's a book of short stories," he explained, leaving his thumb between the pages to mark his pace as he lifted the book so the cover and spine were visible to Kier. The man's expression didn't soften the way it would if he were in Rhett mode, but he did look at least mildly interested in what Rhett had to say, so that was... something. Scraps, as far as Oren was concerned, but no one was asking him, so he kept the contemptuous thought to himself. "There's a lot of variety, so it's hard to get bored of it."

"Do you have a favorite?"

Rhett pursed his lips, tapping out a rhythmless beat on the cover of the book, now half-closed in his lap again. "Ah... yes, I do. There's this one about a man who comes back from war to visit his old family home, empty now that his parents passed and... well, that's a spoiler, but I've read it twice already, to be honest. It's a little sadder than what I normally go for, but like I said, the variety has been nice."

Kier's hands didn't stop their absent ministrations in Waverly's hair, though his eyes were fixed on Rhett and they didn't wander as the violet-eyed man spoke. He hummed in acknowledgement when Rhett was finished, and Oren fully expected him to leave it at that and return to the suffocating silence they'd all been trapped in. Except he didn't. Kier adjusted himself in his seat, smoothing a hand down to rest on Waverly's back, and the movement caused Waverly to stir slightly, her eyes opening to slits.

"Would you mind reading to us?" Kier asked.

Rhett blinked. "Oh. I can, but..."

The unspoken why really grated on Oren's nerves.

Kier shrugged lightly. "Something to pass the time. That, and you have a nice voice." Rhett's eyebrows shot up as color rose in his cheeks. When he didn't respond for a moment, Kier went on to say, "If you'd rather not..."

"No," Rhett interrupted, "no, I really don't mind. Just let me..."

His careful, nimble fingers worked their way back to the beginning of his novel. With another half-fond, half-curious look at Keir, he began reading aloud, quiet enough that he wasn't a nuisance to Oren, which actually bothered him to an extent. Sometimes Rhett was too considerate for his own good.

"The old house hadn't changed since the last time he'd visited, however many years ago that was..."

Oren decided to tune it out. Rhett's voice was actually quite soothing, and hearing him read was more than just a little enjoyable; that was the problem, though, as Oren wasn't interested in falling asleep before they reached Eloserin's capital. He'd been on the cusp of nodding off for most of the ride, thanks to his late-night training with Sia, and while he'd mostly been teasing, he really didn't want Cross to come barreling in while Oren was vulnerable. Gods knew what kind of prank he'd pull just to get a reaction out of Oren...

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on who you asked), all possibility of sleep dissipated the moment the sliding door of the car was thrown open, and in crashed a familiar blue-haired girl, whose smile radiated with energy and enthusiasm, the likes of which could rival caffeine for how jittery they instantly made Oren; he practically shrunk back into his seat, as if he could somehow merge with the soft vinyl and hide from Nova.

Today was really not his lucky day.

Oren couldn't even remember the last time he'd had what one could possibly call a lucky day.

Regardless, this wasn't one of them.

"Ori! Found ya!"