𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 || 𝘢 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺𝘧𝘪𝘤

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

The light was a campfire.

A campfire on the top of the train. How weirder could the night get?

It was the man that had saved her. Same ratty brown cap and jacket, same red gloves with the fingers cut off. It was a small fire, with a spit across it. He was boiling water. Agnes was not sure how he built it so fast, but she figured it didn't really matter as she plopped down on a bucket in front of the warm fire.

"What are you doing on the top of this train, little miss?" The man asked, throwing a wet sock across the spit.

"My friend lost her ticket." Agnes pulled the ticket from her pajama pants waistband. "I'm trying to find her and the conductor, so I can return it to her."

"Hm," The man huffed. "Not so long ago there was a boy with just the same mission. You wanna know what I told him?"

Agnes nodded, to entertain the man. He pulled off his shoe and held it up to her. It had a hole in the sole.

"I keep all my valuables right here, in the old size 13. I recommended he do the same." He seemed to nod to himself as he pulled his shoe back on. "I extend the same knowledge to you, young lady."

Agnes nodded, and at his insistent stare, pulled her left snow boot off, and tucked the ticket safely under her foot before retying the boot with a double knot.

"Not that I have much use for those." The man continued once the ticket was safely in her boot. He scoffed. "Tickets. I ride for free. I hope aboard this rattler anytime I feels like it. I own this train, in fact, I'm the king of this train. The King of the Pole Ex. In fact, I am the king of the North Pole!"

Agnes was slightly startled when he stood up, announcing this into the cold winter air with a shout. It was followed by a sharp laugh. The man seemed to come back to his senses however and sat back down.

"Here, would you like a cup of joe?" Without waiting for an answer, he poured a thick, dark liquid into an aluminum cup and handed it to Agnes. "Perfect for a cold winter's night."

Agnes wrapped her hands around the warm cup, her small palm sliding into the gap between the handle and the mug. It sloshed a little as the train rocked, and looked like something that might give her a disease, but her mother always told her to try everything once. So she lifted it to her mouth and tilted the mug, coughed, and promptly spit it out.

Try as she might, she'd never be able to explain just how bad the taste of it was. The closest she has gotten is she imagines it's what a roadkill skunk would taste like.

"Bless you," the man said, wringing out another sock and throwing it over the spit next to its pair. Agnes truly didn't want to wonder if she just drank sock water.

"Um," Agnes coughed again and set the mug down in the snow. "Isn't Santa the king of the North Pole?"

"What, you mean this guy?" The man pulled a stained Santa hat from the inside of his coat and pulled it on his head. He began to ho-ho-ho, wheezy at first, but growing to a startling shout and ending with an almost mocking laugh. The bell on the end of the hat jungled as he moved his head from side to side. Agnes gave a displeased expression that the man ignored as he shoved the hat back into his jacket. "What exactly is your persuasion on the big guy, little lass?"

"Well, I mean, he exists," Agnes said, as if that's all there was to it. "He must if we're on this train. Where else would we be going? If we're all really going to the North Pole..."

"Aren't we?" The man drawled.

She looked down into the snow, watching the sickening liquid slosh around in its aluminum mug. "Are you saying this is all just a dream?" It would make sense; after all, she was sitting here talking to a man who appeared out of nowhere on a train roof. The roof of a train that also appeared out of nowhere, on train tracks that did not exist.