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Orient Express - East of Stuttgart

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Eastbound from Paris

The setting sun had provided just enough illumination to view the outskirts of Paris, a little bit of open country and a few villages before fading completely. The windows to the outside world now largely reflected the interior light of the still well lit Lounge. The bartender began to lose track of the clientele, though some still held his attention due to either their behavior or their looks. The Express tended to be a bit male dominated, so it was not at all surprising that the two attractive women both had men, and at least one women, clamoring for their attention. Open prostitution was generally frowned upon but not unheard of, but "Imperial Cocktail" didn't seem the type, but "Vodka Martini" had clearly misjudged her.

It was hard to forget "Vodka Martini" as he had stormed out without his drink and now returned expecting another. But the bartender wasn't one to hold personal grudges and VM was hardly the first impulsive customer he had dealt with. A healthy gratuity soothed most wounds, at least for the bartender class. "Thank you Sir!"

They were still over 3 hours from Strasbourg, plenty of time to kill if someone had business there.
 
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Charles Walsh - Same Location
@xavierrol and @MsBloom if so inclined

Walsh finished his snack and picked up his soda and went over to the bar, and rested a banknote under the hand he set on the bar top as he eyed the barman. "I apologize for earlier, sir. It was rude and had no place in such an establishment as this. Perhaps you could do me a small favor, and steer the conductor my way? I need information." He wouldn't elaborate on the type of information he sought, though it was mainly the names and nationalities on the passengers' passports.

Leaving the tip regardless of the barman's answer, he paced over to where Jane was sitting and politely inclined his head towards her companion, before addressing her directly. "Please pardon the interruption, Jane. I apologize for earlier. It's been a long trip and the looming specter of war is grating on me. If there's any way I can make it up to you, please say so. Good night to you both." He was lingering long enough to hear Jane's response, but intended to return to his seat soon.
 
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"Oh I'm sure it won't be a bother Mr Benjamin," Jane said with a smile spreading across her face at the American's humble introduction of himself and sipped her imperial.
"Or if I may be so presumptuous as to call you Leo, even though we've only just met.
Jane had of course noticed Walsh's return to the lounge but had decided to mostly ignore him. Considering how she had caused him to storm out earlier it would perhaps seem a bit suspicious if they were to suddenly be friendly again, at least not until he had made an official apology to her. And if she was honest she felt she was entitled to one. She of course still intended to keep the appointment he had suggested. They did indeed need to have a conversation away from prying ears, and there seemed too be quite a few of those in the lounge.
"So what brings a middle-class American to the Orient Express then," Jane asked and returned her attention to Mr Benjamin after having given the room another subtle and casual scan.
"Forgive me," she then added before giving him a chance to reply.
"I am just terribly curious by nature and people are what I am mot curious about, especially handsome strangers such as yourself.
 

Leo could hear the soft chatter of the other tables, none more intriguing than the Count and the Dancer’s. But he was sitting here, across from an interestingly androgynous beauty who seemed full of confidence and style. If he could hear anyone’s life story, preferably relayed while they were halfway between tipsy and soused, it would be this dame’s story he would want to hear. She might have been the ginchiest girl he had ever met.

He noticed the man who had left return, a hint of astringent and mint wafting as he strolled past, his clothing changed and pacing a little more slowly than before, and for a brief moment Leo was all nerves. Did that guy fancy this gall as his moll, or was that just an odd misunderstanding? He kept his smile for Jane alone, figuring if the other man was still bent about it, they’d hear from him soon.

Thankfully, Jane did not seem bothered by Leo’s Hebrew last name or his humble beginnings. And when she asked if she could call him ‘Leo,’ he lowered his eyes momentarily, smiling coyly, before bringing his verdant pools up to meet her lovely peepers. She had those lash-framed eyes that would make anyone melt, made more vivid by her lack of gaudy adornment.

“It would please me if you did,” he acquiesced. When she asked what brought a middle-class American to the Orient Express, he raised his eyebrows slightly and considered it. She had picked up on that then, his American leanings…and he had tried so hard to return to his origins. ‘You can take a man from a country, but not a country from a man,’ he thought. Then she flattered him by telling him she was curious about his story, calling him handsome with the kind of boldness that made him wonder if he was being boondoggled.

He had wanted to know her story. It looked like he was the one behind the 8 ball now.

“I am simply traveling for business,” he confided. “Checking on my employer’s contracts and making sure the I’s are dotted and the tees are crossed.” He smiled softly as he fingered the rim of his glass. “A glorified paper pusher, if it pleases you.”

He glanced up as the gentleman who had previously been talking to Jane walked over. A momentary worry flashed through Leo’s mind; the bloke had just refreshed his liquid courage and was walking up to claim his dame, stake his territory, and tell Leo to kiss off.

Instead, the man seemed bent on an apology.

Oh.

It didn’t burn out Leo that he wasn’t addressed, though he did find it rather high hat of the man. Leo’s eyes traced over the man’s face. He had the thick brows and high hairline of a man approaching his middle years. His nose was strong and straight; it appeared to have never been broken. The man’s face was clean-shaven, a long crease dimpled his cheek, and he had the tanned appearance of one who spent time in the sun not because he had to but because he enjoyed the leisurely activities of the wealthy.

Leo didn’t take Jane to be a gold digger, but there was always a first time for being wrong. He turned his attention back to the pretty dame across from him, noticing that Charles seemed to be lingering long enough to hear her response.

Would she accept his apology? Now here was a Mexican stand-off in the flesh, using words and not guns. Would she? Wouldn’t she? Or would she simply ignore the man with as much aplomb as he had in ignoring Leo? This interesting turn of events was making the attorney wonder if he should just excuse himself or stand his ground. A third wheel was only fun when it came to matters between the sheets, and the tension in the cabin had just reached the point where it could be cut with a spoon.
 
@Traveler and @MsBloom -- nothing else has changed since last post with regards to header

Charles' earlier ignoring of the other gentleman had naught to do with the fact he thought better of him or anything in that sense; he merely wished to focus his attention on the one he had wronged. And so he did. But perhaps the other man felt ignored intentionally regardless? He could only guess at that, looking at the man properly for the first time, now he was standing over them both. Once Jane had responded, he felt he should introduce himself and perhaps even attempt to gloss over the whole "can I borrow a match" thing by claiming that he and Jane's company had an unofficial greeting for folks from different offices who didn't know each other by sight. Of course, there was the off-chance the American would believe him and then maybe, in a flight of fancy, start asking others if he may borrow a match. Best let the entire time he wore the white jacket drop, so long as Jane accepted his apology and his attempt to move on.

He embraced them both with his embarrassed smile--not wanting the American to feel as if Charles held any animosity towards him--as he awaited Jane's response in particular.
 
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Estella glanced up just quickly enough to paste a ramshackle smile on her face. "Oh, thank you, Your Exellency. I mean, Aleksander," she blushed as she gratefully accepted his handkerchief. Good quality there as well; that was a bit of reassurance in the panic. She dabbed at the damp spot on her knees, taking a few deep breaths in the process.

It was a coincidence. When she dared another glance at the British woman, she seemed wholly consumed in her flirtations with the man at the bar, to the point that she seemed to be entirely ignoring her other suitor. That was comforting, in a way; surely there was someone else in the car feeling a bit more embarrassed than she was. As the singer's heart finally began to slow to a jaunty trot, she turned her attention back towards the aristocrat.

"I'd offer to have this washed for you, only I don't believe there's a laundry on this circus train," Estella remarked apologetically, holding out the crumpled and sopping handkerchief to Aleksander. She poured herself a second glass of the champagne--much less full this time, just in case--and raised it slowly. "What a pity those luxury ocean liners can't go on land, eh? I remember sailing first class on the Majestic back in '27, and you know, they even had a pool on board!" Emptying her glass, she let out a dramatic sigh. What she wouldn't give to be on the Majestic again, heading the other way this time.

Then again, the gentlemen on the ship hadn't been nearly as attentive as Aleks.

"...if I have a chance to see your performances, I would relish such a chance to see a star upon the stage." There seemed to be genuine interest twined in that delightfully-chilling accent of his, and his gaze was warm and friendly as ever.

"I'm afraid you may have to wait a bit. I'm bound for the end of the line: I have an engagement at a club in Constantinople. Club Maxim, are you familiar with it?" Estella tried to remember what she'd heard about the place from other performers. "I believe it's owned by an American. Or was it a Russian? Well, either way, quite popular with the tourist crowd."

She paused, then looked wistfully out the window again. "I don't believe it'll be a very long engagement," she murmured as she hoped. She wanted to go home...and rid herself of this stupid briefcase.

It occurred to her then that Paris was left firmly behind them now, and still there was no Michael. Was there perhaps a different lounge on the train he might have gone to? The dining car perhaps? Or did he have the misfortune of being forced to share his compartment with a stranger, and was perhaps locked in some inescapable conversation with some cheese-sniffing plebeian? Estella refused to believe anything worse could have happened to her friend.

The singer was about to excuse herself from the aristocrat's company and set off to go find the pianist herself, when the small crowd of Englishpeople at the bar made her think twice. Instead she smiled even more brightly at Aleksander and tilted her chin down sheepishly.

"Aleksander...Aleks." In a daring move, she laid both gloved hands lightly over his. "I wonder if I might impose upon you for one more favor. You see, I was expecting a gentleman to join me: my accompanist, a very talented piano player. He was supposed to board in Paris and meet me in here to discuss our act, but it's been quite a while now and of course you can see there's no sign of him. Would you possibly mind helping me go find the conductor so I can make sure he boarded safely? You've seen firsthand how clumsy I can be on trains," Estella added with a giggle.

With the big Romanian--Hungarian?--at her side she felt much more confident than she had since boarding the accursed train. Perhaps once she'd handed off the case to Michael, she could even think of a more personal way to thank the aristocrat for all his attentions. Her doctors always said a good bout of physical activity worked wonders on her nerves.
 
Jane held her breath for a moment hoping that Leo would be flattered enough by being called handsome to not catch any suspicious thoughts regarding any ulteriour motives Jane might have for asking what business he had on the train. It was of course all part of gathering information on the other passengers but that didn't mean she wasn't enjoying his company. He was certainly easy on the eyes and it had after all been a while since last she had had a man, six months at the very least. Having chosen to ignore Walsh when he re-entered the lounge did however not mean she was above accepting his apology most gracefully but also with a smile that suggested that perhaps he should not make assumptions about a lady's profession from a simple exchange of words that could be mistaken for code. She stuck with the misinterpreted prostitute story. It was the one that seemed most plausible. She just left him hanging long enough to make him nervous.
"A simple misunderstanding I'm sure," she eventually said and changed her smile to something much friendlier.

When she turned her attention back to Leo that smile widened even further as she listened to his explanation of why he was travelling east. It was a cover not unlike that of many undercover operatives as it gave them a good alibi for being constantly on the move and finding themselves on business in foreign countries. She nodded along and with a glance over to the woman with the suitcase she noted her mentioning waiting for her accompanist, asking the East-European gentleman to inquire with the conductor about whether or not he had boarded the train safely. Jane was not entirely sure her reason for not wanting to do so herself was very truthful. In fact Jane rather assumed it was because she simply didn't want to lug that suitcase around the train. This assumption of course also made her even more curious as to its contents. Or ... could it possibly be that she simply did not have a sleeping compartment. It was of course an option but her appearance was a bit too flawless to not have been at least improved on since she boarded the train.

"As for myself, like I said before, I am merely travelling for the pleasure of travelling, and they say the Orient is supposedly something to see. So I thought I'd start with Constantinople, I mean Istanbul, and then maybe make my way through Persia to India," Jane said to diffuse the idea that she might have a particular reason for having chosen Istanbul for her travels.

@Traveler @captain_bond mentioning @Shiva the Cat
 
Count Aleksander
First Class Lounge Car
@Shiva the Cat @xavierrol @MsBloom @Traveler @captain_bond

​
Aleksander knew fake smiles when he saw one. It was not just that she was an effective actress, but he could practically hear the thrum of her heart within her breast. He wondered idly if she had intended the spill of the wine to see his reaction-or mayhap the Count was just being paranoid. Still, he did not suppose she was an enemy. Perhaps it was all as it seemed. Wouldn't that be quite a change? An extraordinary day for something not quite extraordinary to occur! "You may keep that," he said with a delicate smile.

Though he could not help to follow her gaze, seeing the well dressed and elegant fellow at the bar. Perhaps another aristocrat. Or, perhaps, a spy as well. His clothes were fine, but one did merit a second glance on fine clothing alone. The fellow had a look about him. Compelling, striking even. He looked like a man with secrets. But the British woman beside him...her poise and grace said everything on its own. Oh, she was one to watch.

What kind of train had he boarded? Aleksander did not allow the passage of any worry to his features. but he made notes, as he did everything that might perturb him or prove useful and notable. He was a trained spy as well. No need to give away any cards he was trying to play close to his chest. He gently waved at the handkerchief, attaching no value to it. Let it be an early gift, he thought as he noted her filling the champagne glasses, chuckling at her remark upon the great ship.

"You don't say," he said with a grin. "The Majestic, indeed?" He supposed it might well be true and what a life she lived. "I admit I have not sailed as much as I should. One stint to the Americas some years ago, one to London, and also a ship to Hong Kong not long after,' he began, "to secure several business holdings you might say." Well, if that didn't sound mysterious regardless of its veracity. He began to sip his own drink

"Club Maxim, though...I don't believe so. Though do tell more...I'm bound for the same and I would appreciate a chance to enjoy the fine arts while I am there." It would make a welcome change to what the other missions might be, certainly. When Estella brightened more, he was slightly taken aback...moreso when her hands fell over his. Charming as they found one another, this bespoke a new motive...one that followed shortly. "Your accompanist, you say. A piano player..." He rose to his feet and offered his hand to hers.

"It would be my honor to escort you," he said, glancing at her briefcase. "I have a private car as well. Perhaps first you would like to place your luggage there for safekeeping?" He needed to place his there as well. "I am certain we can find your friend, Mademoiselle Devereaux. Please, worry about nothing."
 
@MsBloom and @Traveler, no other change.

Picking up on the cover she was beginning to weave about herself, Charles raised his glass at the pair. "A simple misunderstanding," he said, his smile never fading even as he turned to return to his seat. Perhaps my earlier episode could be worked to our advantage, he thought. He sat back down in the corner lounge seat and eyed the various patrons, never lingering on one more than another. The black, thick brows that matched his hair raised imperceptibly when the aristocratic-looking fellow rose to his feet and offered the woman with the briefcase his arm. Now just what could she have in there?, he wondered. If she is a spy, she's a rank amateur. Any secrets worth their salt would be carried in as small and as inconspicuous a manner as possible. Clearly she has not yet learned that. He eyed the door to the car forward of this one, where the conductor would be located. Perhaps he should bypass the barman completely and seek the conductor out on his own? No, that won't do. I have an appointment with Jane. He gave her a wide smile from his corner seat, a subtle reminder that they had business to attend to, but to anyone else it was just a small, flirtatious smile that spoke to his determination to "win next round," as it were.
 

The man standing beside them spared a smile for Jane and himself, and Leo lowered his chin in a half nod. Turning his eyes back to the short haired beauty sitting before him. To ease his mind, he took another drag, pulling long and warm at his cigarette. The fact that the lady did not use a stem told him she was a little more bone and flesh than money; or maybe she was slumming it and enjoyed playing with the commoners.

She dismissed the debonaire man’s apology for earlier with a casual dismissal, casting it as simply a misunderstanding. It was repeated, and their visitor disappeared to the seat he had occupied, leaving Jane and Leo alone in the crowded cabin once again. It was such a strange situation; people milled about and chatted gaudily, and yet the only person he was concerned with was her.

The heiress’ travel plans were extensive. Leo inclined his head as he regarded her, tapping the end of his cigarette on the crystal tray. “That’s quite an ambitious tour,” he said, his voice rising almost enough to make it a question. “And alone, I’m presuming? You must run in the same circles as Amelia Earhart,” he said, referring to the aviator who had recently flown across the Atlantic on her own. “You certainly have her moxie.”

He smiled at her, his eyes moving from her face to her hands and back again. “I bet you have some interesting stories to tell at parties. What an interesting woman you are, Ms. Eyelesbarrow.” Meeting her might make the drudgery of his journey more tolerable.
 
"I have met her," Jane replied softly and quite casually to Leo's comment that she must run in the same circles as the famed female aviator who were also a great advocate of equal rights in the United States.
Remembering her meeting with the bold and most definitely modern woman Jane also realised that they did indeed resemble one another to some extent. True, Amelia's hair was a bit bigger with more curls in it but side by side one who did not know either of them might perhaps have thought them to be sisters. This thought put a smile on Jane's face as she remembered how their meeting had ended with a most passionate kissing session, that did not lead beyond kissing and some bold groping. It had been during one of Jane's visits back in the UK to make a full report on her latest undercover operation and receive the assignment that would take her to Paris.
"I wouldn't go so far as to say we know each other or even associate in the same circles. She is American, like yourself, after all. I have lived in the UK most of my life, Exmouth first of course, then I did my higher education at Exeter before moving to Chelsea, London."
She smiled confidently as she began to tell her backstory and reminded her companion that since he had allowed her to call him Leo he might as well call her Jane.

She finished her cigarette and her cocktail before excusing herself. She needed to attend to a call of nature, adding that it was also getting rather late and she had had a busy day. She was also curious to see where the East European gentleman and the woman with the suitcase were heading. Perhaps the exchanged words about her accompanist had been some kind of code and they were about to exchange whatever was in the suitcase.
"I do hope we will meet again though Leo. How does breakfast sound, shall we say seven thirty in the first class dining carriage?"
As she passed through the lounge she subtly signalled the number of Walsh's compartment and the agreed code to him. She then headed back to her own compartment

@Traveler @captain_bond mentioning @Shiva the Cat @Vinaein
 
Mr. Leonard Benjamin, Esq.
First Class Lounge
@MsBloom​
Leo had never been so delighted as he was when he learned that Jane had indeed met the aviator, and though they were not professed as the closest of chums, he felt a bit awestruck to be sitting across from a woman who had been in the same room as the famed Ms. Earhart. As Jane shared a small bit of her story and reminded Leo to call her Jane, he allotted her his full attention. Forest-hued eyes focused intently on her, his face subtly expressive and his concern for both cigarette and drink taking a back seat to her.

When Jane decided she was ready to retire, Leo stood along with her. He was pleasantly surprised at her invitation to breakfast. Not only was she bold, but she was precise. It was not a vague ‘Hope to see you at breakfast,’ but a dedicated time and location. She knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask.

“Seven thirty sounds lovely,” he agreed. “I would consider it an honor to start the day in your company over breakfast.”

After bidding her a restful night and watching her leave, he sat back down at the table. To finish his drink. The cabin was still rather full, and he noticed quite a few at the bar. No doubt they would consider it a dandy to procure his table. Considering such, he gathered up the glasses in the corner and downed the last of his sweetly sour concoction, put out his glowing nub of a cigarette, and made his way toward the head. He took care of the things he would not be able to do in his private car, then returned to his cabin.

He had been fortunate this trip, gaining a single cabin instead of paying for a double suite and hoping that the train had not over-booked. During the day his cabin was a sitting room, a place where he could sit in quiet privacy and look out the window as Europe passed by. A small corner sink gave him a place to attend to his shaving needs, and he had places to hang his clothing to keep them wrinkle free.

When he reached his cabin, he saw that the steward had already set the bench seat into a sleeping berth. At first, he was annoyed that someone had mussed about his room while he was away. Then he reconsidered it and appreciated the thoughtfulness of the crew.

As he closed the door behind him and slid the hanging latch, he noticed it kept popping off. Damned inconvenient to have a door that would not lock, but he supposed it was late, and he could ask the steward to check it in the morning. He changed out of his day clothes into a soft pair of trousers, leaving his chest bare. He preferred wearing nothing at all, but with his door unlockable and not being home, decided that course was prudent, and after brushing his teeth and washing his face once more, he retired for the night, setting his winding clock for six-thirty in the morning.
 
Charles Walsh - First-Class Lounge/Sleeping Cars
@MsBloom and mentioning @Traveler @Shiva the Cat and @Vinaein

Charles acknowledged the signal from Jane with a barely perceptible nod of his head, and went back to sipping his soda. He finished, left a five-pound tip beneath the plate that held his snack, and rose to his feet. He wondered where the film star and the aristocrat were headed, but decided their mysteries (mystery? Are their fates intertwined here on the Express?) could be solved in the morning. He still needed to talk shop with Jane, and hopefully talk about more than shop. The picture of geniality, he passed her companion on his way to his own compartment and said, "Careful, chap. She might be eating more than eggs for breakfast, should you make her mad," in a tone that was just serious enough to give him pause before he proceeded to his own berth, entered, shut and locked the door. The only nod he made towards his eventual sleep was to loosen his tie and remove his gun from its holster, lying it on the side table with his fingertips gently laying atop it every time he heard footsteps passing in the hallway. His thoughts turned to Jane, and how he hoped she would linger, perhaps for the remainder of the night; but then again, he did not expect this to be likely.
 
𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕒 𝔻𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕩
First Class Lounge Car -- Passenger Compartments
@Vinaein @xavierrol

*****
​
"Oh, don't mind this," Estella said quickly, jerking the briefcase a little. Thank goodness the lock on the top was so strong, otherwise she might have sent the contents flying across the car. "Just some ah...personal effects. Papers. Important contracts and the like. And...sheet music. Very new, very secret. The music world is quite cutthroat after all, everyone trying to copy one another."

Stop babbling you idiot she scolded herself as she took Aleksander's arm. Try not to worry indeed. She hadn't stopped worrying in more than ten years.

Still, the singer tried to maintain her air of gaiety right up until they located the conductor at the farthest end of the passenger compartments, giving some small order or another to one of the porters. "Excuse me, sir," Estella began, laying a gentle hand on the man's shoulder to get his attention. "I'm wondering if you can help me. An American by the name of Michael O'Hara was supposed to board in Paris and meet me. Can you please tell me where his compartment is?"

"O'Hara?" The conductor screwed up his face and began to check through his manifest. "Boarded in Paris, you say?"

"Yes. He's quite tall, and very dark-skinned. A distinguished scar across his nose." Ah, that was from good times, running from the cops at Minsky's as she struggled to put her clothes on with every step. "He would have boarded alone, at least to my knowledge."

"Ah yes!" the conductor's finger landed on a name. "Here he is." His eyes raised apologetically towards her. "I'm sorry miss, but it looks like your friend missed the train. He's not on board."

Estella's stomach dropped. She thought the briefcase had as well, but her fingers had locked firmly around the handle, tight as rigor mortis. "Oh...oh dear..." There was a rushing in her ears and her vision began to grow fuzzy around the edges. Thankfully, the conductor had seen many women faint over his years of service, and could quickly recognize the signs.

"Here miss, this compartment's empty," he offered, opening the door to an empty room. "Why don't you sit down a bit and I'll have someone bring you some water. Would you care to send a telegram from Strasbourg? We would be happy to cover the cost of course."

"Yes...please..." Estella muttered as her knees gave out, sending her slumping against Aleksander's strong frame.
 
Count Aleksander
First Class Lounge Car -- Passenger Compartments
@Shiva the Cat @xavierrol

There seemed to be a touch of attachment to the briefcase. The sudden way she yanked it back, the look in her eyes, the sudden covering of her own words. But Aleksander did not see a threat, so he simply filed it away for good measure, holding it in his mind as he gazed at her. "Ah, but of course," the Count said with a gracious gesture. "I would not dream of endangering your poetry," he added with the same charming smile to Estella. Her hand on his arm, he walked, considering asking to hold the briefcase for her.

But he had a suspicion she might not take kindly to that. He was rather liking Estella, the cheerful air she presented one of pleasantry and warmth. It made a change from all the grimness of his life. He simply walked forward to let Estella do the talking as she began to discuss the presence (or lack thereof) of Mr. Michael O'hara, evidently the gateway to lead her from his life, perhaps permanently.

And then it turned out he had missed the train. He had not boarded, this mysterious Michael. The reaction on Estella was immediate. She practically swayed, her hand gripping his own tightly. He was leading her over, not even hearing the conductor.

He could tell she was collapsing, her knees buckling. The count moved with grace and swiftness, catching her and holding her in his arms, keeping her upright. "Estella..." he said firmly, holding her as she looked to the conductor. "Get her some water!" He said, his natural accent bleeding in.

"Estella...can you hear me? Are you alright?" Foolish question," he thought as he gently tapped as her cheek, holding her like he might never let go.

Seemed he had stumbled in on quite the mystery.​
 
Having made sure to keep her distance and appear as if she was simply returning to her own compartment Jane witnessed the entire scene between the conductor the woman with the suitcase and the East European gentleman. She also heard enough to gather that whomever the woman had been waiting for was not on board and the way this seemed to affect her was rather dramatic and suggested that his absence on the train was something of a disaster to her. For a moment she considered offering the young woman help, a glass of water perhaps, somewhere to sit down but it seemed that the gentleman had things under control, or some semblance thereof. When he ordered the conductor to bring a glass of water Jane went into her compartment and fetched exactly that which she then brought to the mismatched couple.

She knelt down in front of the woman and held up the glass to her lips pouring small sips of it into her mouth.
"I'm Jane," she offered with a smile at the young woman.
"Are you feeling alright?"
It was of course a rather redundant question since it was quite obvious that the woman was far from alright but in Jane's experience simply asking the question might make the person feeling unwell to actually feel ever so slightly better. Quite often the response was that no, but they would, soon.
"My compartment is just a few doors down," Jane continued.
"If you want to have a quick lay down. Just until you are feeling well enough to return to your own compartment."

@Shiva the Cat @Vinaein
 
Upon hearing at least three familiar voices both in the corridor and through the connecting door to the neighboring compartment, Charles perked his ears up. The speech was muffled, the words impossible to distinguish, but he wouldn't miss Jane's dulcet tones in a crowd of people. She will tell me if this is something business-related, he thought confidently as he relaxed once more and listened more intently. Hmm, her compartment isn't far. Good to know, he mused when he caught the last thing Jane had said. He poured himself a glass of water and sat back, waiting to see how the scene would play out.
 
𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕒 𝔻𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕩
First Class Lounge Car -- Passenger Compartments
@Vinaein @MsBloom

******​

The moments that passed might have been a minute or an hour. All Estella was aware of was the sound of muffled voices, followed by the feeling of cool water washing over her lips. This later stimulus affected the singer as it might have a wilting flower, and as her brown eyes fluttered open, the woman became aware of a sweet and gentle (and undeniably feminine voice).

"I'm Jane. Are you feeling all right?"

Estella's eyes struggled to focus on the face of the woman before her. "Yes," she gasped, her voice feeling clogged and cottony. "I think so...oh!"

The recollection of where she was, what had happened, and the nationality of her would-be savior hit her with all the force of the train itself, and the singer suddenly shrank backward. Thankfully, this was directly into Aleks' chest, and as she glanced upward she could see he too was watching her with clear concern in his eyes as he held her firmly against his body.

The case, where was the case?

Ah, there on the ground, with the overhead light glinting off the gold monogrammed "A.H.M." on the top. It was still within arm's reach. With surprising swiftness for one who had just barely recovered consciousness, Estella's arm shot forward as quick as a cobra, snatching up the briefcase and clutching it against her chest. Once that was secure, she narrowed her eyes and looked from Jane to the glass of water in her hand--the one no doubt Estella had just drank from. Was there any sign of powder along the sides? Any strange scents or discoloration in the little amount that remained? Not as far as she could tell, but her head was beginning to pound madly.

"A telegram," she muttered, struggling to rise to her feet. It was a shame to leave Aleks' firm grasp so soon, but there was no time to spare. "I need to send a telegram before we reach Strasbourg. How far away are we?" The question wasn't directed at anyone in particular, and Estella didn't seem very intent on staying nearby to wait for the answer. She needed to get to her own compartment, and quickly.

If only she could take more than two steps without needing to lean against the wall.
 
"Still a few hours I would expect," Jane said and stood up with the woman, offering her an arm to steady herself on.
"Are you sure you don't want to lay down for a bit first?" she asked with some concern and as casually as possible pretended to not have put too much weight on the near panic the woman had shown during the few seconds before finding her suitcase once again.
A.H.M. Jane memorised the initials even if at the moment she had no reason to suspect they were not the woman's initials. One thing experience had taught her was to never discard any scrap of information as irrelevant until it had proven to be irrelevant.

Jane had off course also noticed the woman's reaction to seeing her, and perhaps even more to hearing her. It was clear that she had some reason to be careful around Brits. She would certainly have to keep a close watch on this woman. For a brief moment she considered seduction. Walsh could wait. But would this recently fainted woman who was clearly nervous about Jane being British, to the point where she had seemingly examined the glass and its contents visually for traces of poison or sedatives, take such a bait? Probably not, Jane concluded.

@Shiva the Cat @Vinaein @xavierrol (possibly returning as the conductor with another glass of water.
 
Count Aleksander
First Class Lounge Car -- Passenger Compartments
@Shiva the Cat @MsBloom​
There he was, the Count with a woman fainting in his arms. It was not exactly something he had failed to experience in the past. He was wondering what to do when the woman appeared. Well dressed and evidently British. The Count remembered her from the bar, in fact.

And she had a glass of water, like a proper savior, her voice feminine and elegant, the glass offered to the lips of the singer and actress.

"I'm Jane. Are you feeling alright?" The Count heard her words as Estella came back to life, arising back to the land of the conscious with her eyes fluttering. He hugged her into his chest as she shrank back, almost inadvertent and protective as he could manage. Aleksander had no idea if this was all connected, but an odd protective instinct took over while he held to Estella. Perhaps it was only instinct, or more, but he suddenly did not wish to see her in any distress.

And he did not miss Estella's primary concern was the case. "Please," he said. "Jane, was it? I appreciate your aid," he said, noting Estella's reactions and the way she refused to take water." He assisted Jane in rising up, strangely reluctant for her to leave his protective glance. "Perhaps I might interest the lady in a fresh glass?" He asked, before he helped Estella steady herself.

"Perhaps we should head to your own compartment," he murmured, his brow furrowed. He wished to get her to safety then, hopefully away from prying eyes so they could talk. "Still some time from Strasbourg," he added. He gave Jane a charming smile.

"I appreciate your help, Lady Jane," he said mildly, taking Estella's hand as his gaze directed to her. "Perhaps we might talk later?" He was attempting to disentangle them, sensing Estella's discomfort...and Jane was giving off vibes he was not yet certain of.

"Here," he helped Estella upright. "Let us get you and your affects there. I promise I am with you," he added, surprisingly gently.
 
It really was a pity things had gone so badly back in London. The sympathetic look in Jane's eyes was almost enough to make Estella trust her, and really what were the odds she could have known anything about what had occurred at the Savoy? She was probably just a concerned bystander worried about another woman going off with a strange man; Estella herself might have acted the same if their positions were reversed. For a moment her hand twitched, tempted to take the woman's proffered arm.

And yet...British prisons were still prisons. If the singer was lucky it might just be a charge of burglary, but espionage and murder seemed much more likely. And even if they decided to deport her, it certainly wouldn't solve her situation back in the States, would it?

So the temptation to take the woman's arm passed, and Estella instead pressed closer to Aleksander. As far as she could tell there was no reason he would have any interest in her besides the obvious, carnal one. Might as well lean on that for now and let him be a shield against the clear threats in the meantime.

Smiling gratefully up at the Count, she allowed him to put an arm around and and guide her farther down the car. As luck would have it her own compartment was just there at the end, and when she open the door she found nothing had been disturbed. At least, not as far as she could tell.

Falling heavily onto the seat, she began to dig through her valise for a notebook. "If I could trouble you for yet another favor, Aleks," she murmured, scribbling something down in pencil on a blank page. When the few short lines were completed, she folded the paper up tightly and held it up to the aristocrat. "Could you see to it that this message gets into the hands of the telegram office at the Strasbourg station? The conductor may be able to see it it himself, but he's so busy, and it's crucial that this be sent off right away."

Her fingers were still trembling slightly, shaking the printed address she'd written on the outside of the paper: Mortimer Cohen, 73 Ludlow Street, New York.

"Thank you again for all your kindness," Estella added as she relaxed back in the seat. "I think I'd like to rest here for a bit until my nerves have settled. I don't wish to keep you if you have business elsewhere, however."

There was a hint of a lie in those last words, as though she wasn't quite ready to let go of such a formidable bodyguard so soon, message or no message.
 
Count Aleksander
Passenger Compartments
@Shiva the Cat @MsBloom

*****​
He had no idea why Estella was so frightened now. No inkling of why this had made her faint, or her curious aversion to those around her. It was not the sight of them, not anything they said, so the only thing he could deduce was the possibility of their nationality. Well, Aleksander knew some held grudges against the British and he could not blame them. But the mystery of who Estella Deveraux was only deepened for him.

And the Count did so enjoy a good mystery. There seemed to be intriguing people aboard this train and he was not certain this was coincidence. Perhaps spies like himself. Perhaps men and women of means and ability. Was he the target? Or just an unhappy byproduct of it all? He gently held Estella to himself, offering comfort and trust...this brought memories best left forgotten, but he was determined to be the protector for now.

He led her to her compartment, gingerly now. One foot in front of the other. He accepted the letter. "But of course," he said to her, looking briefly at the envelope, seeing the address upon there. He was suddenly quite torn in whether to look at it or not. It would not be gentlemanly...but then again, a spy's mission rarely was. Gentlemanly actions were luxuries they could not afford.

He folded the letter into a pocket, already resolving to stay close. She may have thought to utilize him, but he had the suspicion something was going on. "I may keep watch," he said gently. "The train is in motion, Sending a telegram may prove...difficult. A short delay might make scant difference..." He smiled. "And with so much going on, I would be more than honored to ensure you are not disturbed in slumber. I give my word as a gentleman...my own quarters, you see..." he flicked his head.

"Are right next door to your own."
 
Jane watched as the woman hesitated to take her arm and realised that even though she herself had offered her name to the odd couple neither of them had done the same which at the best of times was simply impolite but perhaps it could be put down to the shock of the incident, at least as far as the woman was concerned, and yet she could not help but think they were both hiding something. She lingered in the corridor watching as the gentleman lead the woman to her compartment and making note of which one it was. It was just two doors down from Walsh's right at the very end of the carriage. She lingered long enough for the gentleman to reappear and then disappear into another compartment right next to the woman's. So the two were neighbours. Jane took note of this as well . She made sure the corridor was empty before approaching Walsh's compartment knocking first three times in rapid succession, then two, then three again.

When Walsh did open she slipped inside quickly, almost brushing against him as she did, and told him to close the door behind her. She didn't sit down but rather walked to the end of the compartment to look outside the window at the dark rushing by outside.
"You do realise of course," she began.
"Just how close you were to blowing both your own cover and mine back there do you not?"
It wasn't really a question as much as a reprimand.
"New to the business I assume," she added and pulled another cigarette from her leather-bound case and put it between her lips before turning around to face him.
 


It was late, but not ungodly so, and though Leo was accustomed to the strange hours people kept when they traveled, the train sort of an all-nighter even though the bar and restaurant did keep normal hours. He sat up in his bed and rubbed a hand across his face to dispel the fog of sleep he had almost been in, then grabbed an undershirt as he stumbled towards the door. He still wore the long, soft trousers he had pulled on before, his feet bare beneath them and no other clothes sans the white cotton t-shirt in his hands.

The door slid to the side with a press of his palm. Leo blinked against the harsh brightness of the corridor compared to his room. Glancing to his left he saw the tail end of the lovely Jane slipping into the room, the soft utterance of her voice indicating she was either talking to herself or someone else. Leo's dark eyebrows rose as he began to slip the white cotton t-shirt over his forearms. He had not considered that she would be in the same train compartment as himself, and only one door away. In truth, it was Mr. Walsh's room, but the sleepy attorney did not realize that.

Yet.

As he pulled the fabric down across the hardened sides of his abdomen he turned to the right and saw the door next to his closed, and the one further beyond open, a streamlet of light flooding the hall. Beyond that were several more doors before the one that led to the water closet.

He strode bare-footed to the right, past the open door, and saw the count standing in the gap and telling the woman beyond…Estrella, was it?...that his compartment was just beside hers. Leo paused and turned back. It was not his usual compulsion to interfere with the private matters of others, but the glance he stole of the woman reveled her skin was paler than before, and she looked slightly disheveled. He didn't suspect the fine gentleman of misdeeds, but he had to check or else he would ponder their situation throughout the night.

Placing one hand on the door frame, Leo leaned in. "Excuse me," he said to the pair, his English accent stronger in his still-waking state. "Please pardon my interruption." His green-grey eyes flickered between the two. "I heard a scuffle in the hallway. Is everyone alright?"
 
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As she slipped the notebook back into her valise, Estella's fingers brushed against the cool glass bottle a fellow dancer had given her during a short engagement in Milan last year. She had no idea what was in the dozen or so white tablets that still clicked softly inside, but she always found them helpful in situations like these. While the singer probably needed a few hours' sleep to fully calm her nerves, it seemed unlikely she'd be getting any in the near future. Not with Jane only a few doors down, no doubt watching what door she'd gone into with those clear, piercing eyes of hers, but with the Count seemingly hesitant to leave her to her own devices.

The pills would at least help her focus, and the contents of the little silver flask in the side pocket of her valise would hopefully bring the color back into her white cheeks.

"That's very kind of you to look out for me, Aleks," she smiled up, complexion a little warmer now. "I must think of some way to repay you in the meantime." A pity there was no piano on board the train, at least not to Estella's knowledge. A private rendition of one of her numbers usually did an excellent job of demonstrating her gratitude. "Perhaps if we should meet in Constantinople, the owner of the club might be able to arrange something..."

"Excuse me," a masculine voice interrupted. At first Estella thought it might have been one of the porters returning with water, but to her surprise it was the handsome gentleman she'd seen at the bar.

The one who had been so locked in conversation with Jane.

Her smile faltered a little at his inquiries. "Yes, we're quite fine. I was just feeling a bit faint just now." Surreptitiously, she began to nudge the briefcase under her seat with the edge of one of her scuffed black heels. "You can tell your friend--Jane, I think her name was?--you can tell her I'm perfectly all right now, and I appreciate her concern. And yours." The hard edge of her dark eyes might have implied otherwise. "Please, don't trouble yourself any further about me, I'm sure I'll be right as rain after a little rest."
 
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