Let The Grass Grow (Leon x OC)

Chapter 9 - Important

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only a fool - father john misty

holding hands - the magic lantern

that's where i am - maggie rogers

white lies - lucius

blur - pleasure systems

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"Are all these people here to board the train?" Quinn asked as she and Leon weaved through a large crowd that had gathered on the platform.

"No. They're just here to watch."

Quinn looked around incredulously. Surely these people must've seen a train before. But when she caught sight of the grand Arcadian on the tracks, she started to understand.

The Arcadian was nothing like the tube or the overground, which were newly renovated and aerodynamic in shape. No, this train — she was inclined to call it a locomotive — looked like it had emerged from a time portal.

It was a hulking steel beast of 1880s glamor and Galarian heritage, huffing steam like an ancient dragon Pokémon of mythic proportions. Its glossy white exterior reflected the romantic oranges and pinks of the setting sun.

Quinn had only ever seen a train like this in movies.

The ticket attendant was also something out of a period piece. He was poised before the open coach door, everything about him neat and narrow, from his waxed mustache to his starched button-up and satin vest.

"Tickets, please," he said as they approached.

Leon handed over two comically large tickets and the attendant punched them with a gold pair of nippers.

"Welcome aboard, Mr Leon and Miss Quinn," he greeted and stepped aside to allow them passage.

Two young men in clean but nondescript uniforms took their bags (Quinn was quick to retrieve Michi who had begun growling as the men approached) while a young woman with a tight chignon and blinding smile ushered them to the dining coach.

It seemed that they were the last of their small traveling party to board. Four people of distinct and disparate professions sat around a round table, sipping tea and nibbling on cucumber sandwiches.

The youngest among them was a boy of about — if Quinn had to guess — thirteen or fourteen. He was donned in a baseball cap and a t-shirt with a snarling Growlithe printed on the front, six Pokéballs fastened to his belt. A trainer, in the midst of his challenge.

His nose was remarkably upturned, reminding Quinn of a Tepig.

Sat beside him was a vulpine-faced young woman dressed in a way that seemed to be in fashion and ahead of it at the same time, as though she were privy to upcoming trends that hadn't yet hit the runway.

She sported chunky sneakers, baggy army pants with silver chains dangling; a shirt that looked like it had been shot at with a paintball gun, and a neon pink bucket hat with the name of a popular streetwear brand embroidered about the rim. Quinn wasn't exactly fashion-literate but she got the impression that this abstract ensemble was expensive.

The young woman's Rotom phone pinged and whizzed around her, seemingly in the midst of capturing video. An Influencer. Quinn wondered if she was friends with Raihan.

The older birdlike woman perched beside the Influencer was the only one who looked like she belonged on the train. She was dressed in a manner that presented her wealth in a way completely antithetical to the girl in the bucket hat. This woman was old money and she wanted — needed — everyone to know it. Her emerald gown was elegant and managed to shimmer even amid the dim mood lighting of the dining car. An heiress, probably.