Like Hoboes in the Night

The train shunted along the tracks. An ambient sound which could be heard from the inside of the car. Here they were like hoboes hitching around, on a car with a side door open enjoying the country view.

"It's times like these that make it all worthwhile," said Frank; his black suit was dirty and he had tried his best to look presentable. He leaned up against the open door, a smoke in his hands and he was watching the starry sky.

Max was sitting on the ledge; he was in that exact frame of mind that Frank was in. Though he was splattered with enough blood to make a CSI happy. He didn't reply at all, content with the knowledge that someone else was feeling what he thought.

The car that they were in was empty, except for Angst sleeping off to one side. She was using Frank's jacket as a pillow.

"Well, I hope Pretty can get that for me," Frank wondered aloud.

"He's good," Max replied still staring up at the night sky, his eyes seemed a million miles away. "He's like Felix The Cat - all he has to do is reach into his bag of tricks."

Frank chuckled.