The train jerked to a halt, throwing Nate somewhat out of his seat.  He looked out the carriage window and the wooden sign said Whitby.

“I hate this place.” He said aloud to no one.  He hated the water, the sea air, the bloody gulls and their screeching, his brother, the whole damn thing.
Fortunately, this would be a short visit, so he might as well get it over with.  He rose and stepped out on to the platform.

“Welcome to Whitby, sir.” said a porter who was loitering nearby.

“Thank you.” Nate replied with curtly, reaching back into the carriage to snatch up his valise.

“First visit, sir?” the railway employee inquired helpfully.

Nate snorted derisively. “No.  No it is not.  Can you direct me to a hotel?”  Because there was not a chance in hell he would stay at the house.