Arthur nodded a bit at Malachi's own answer, eyeing both of the people on the train who had evidently gotten on Malachi's nerves with less subtly than he'd looked at the man himself.  Curse the short notice of their trip; if Arthur had known just a day in advance, he'd have bought out an entire train car for just the two of him.

So, so badly he wanted to feel Malachi's warmth in his hands again.  Wanted to taste him, his salty skin and metallic blood.

Damn this damn rain ride.

"If his head shattered first, what would you do then?"  The question was asked more to distract himself then out of any real curiosity.  "I'd make that woman clean it up with that dress she's wearing.  The stains would be an improvement."

A slow blink, and Arthur turned and looked back at Malachi.  Through glasses that were not his, he was entranced by the other's dark eyes.  He wanted to drown in them.

A gentle smile came to Arthur's lips, despite - or maybe because of - the morbid thoughts he shared with his companion.

"How would you kill me?  Or, how will you kill me?"