[ the same "it" that's referenced in the graffiti sprayed across the walls. whatever the "it" is, thomas makes a mental note to make sure to check behind them every so often, just in case the warning is still relevant, regardless of how long ago it was painted there.
the slightly-open car door doesn't go unnoticed by thomas. if anything, it captures his attention almost entirely and he creeps closer, slow and careful, his flashlight steady on the opening. if thomas was a cat, curiosity would have killed him, but (thankfully, and perhaps miraculously) his being human has saved him from a countless number of untimely deaths.
thomas stops at the doors, cranking his neck a little to get a better look inside. open enough to admit a person means open enough to admit thomas. he says nothing as he leans his head inside, wary as he sweeps his light back and forth, pausing for a second longer on the bag in the luggage rack both times.
he's gotta know what's inside.
turning his body sideways, thomas steps in slowly with just one foot, leaning his weight onto it gradually both to make sure the floor doesn't give under his foot, but also just in case the floor decides to protest audibly. with his weight distributed between the train and the platform, thomas eases the rest of the way inside with minimal trouble.
he doesn't go for the bag right away, but instead, does a check of the car, peering underneath some of the seats for anything else that may have been left behind, but all he finds is a couple of hard candy wrappers and some single-use metro tickets scattered on the floor.
thomas takes the sand bag from his shoulder and carefully wedges it between his knees, then sticks his small flashlight in his mouth to free up both of his hands so he can reach up to lift the bag down. his movements are slow, cautious, and for no actual reason other than quiet anticipation of something going wrong, he holds his breath. ]
no subject
[ the same "it" that's referenced in the graffiti sprayed across the walls. whatever the "it" is, thomas makes a mental note to make sure to check behind them every so often, just in case the warning is still relevant, regardless of how long ago it was painted there.
the slightly-open car door doesn't go unnoticed by thomas. if anything, it captures his attention almost entirely and he creeps closer, slow and careful, his flashlight steady on the opening. if thomas was a cat, curiosity would have killed him, but (thankfully, and perhaps miraculously) his being human has saved him from a countless number of untimely deaths.
thomas stops at the doors, cranking his neck a little to get a better look inside. open enough to admit a person means open enough to admit thomas. he says nothing as he leans his head inside, wary as he sweeps his light back and forth, pausing for a second longer on the bag in the luggage rack both times.
he's gotta know what's inside.
turning his body sideways, thomas steps in slowly with just one foot, leaning his weight onto it gradually both to make sure the floor doesn't give under his foot, but also just in case the floor decides to protest audibly. with his weight distributed between the train and the platform, thomas eases the rest of the way inside with minimal trouble.
he doesn't go for the bag right away, but instead, does a check of the car, peering underneath some of the seats for anything else that may have been left behind, but all he finds is a couple of hard candy wrappers and some single-use metro tickets scattered on the floor.
thomas takes the sand bag from his shoulder and carefully wedges it between his knees, then sticks his small flashlight in his mouth to free up both of his hands so he can reach up to lift the bag down. his movements are slow, cautious, and for no actual reason other than quiet anticipation of something going wrong, he holds his breath. ]