Even after being warned, Malachi looked at him like that, spoke to him like that, and Arthur hated him for it.  Hated Malachi, hated every damn person inside this train car, hated himself most of all.  Worse still was when Malachi straightened and crossed his legs.  After a moment, Arthur mimicked him and retrieved the papers and a pen for him.

The description of the woman, Miriam, made Arthur grimace.  Repulsive was a good word; Arthur felt it whole heartedly.

Perhaps it was more because of Malachi's own animosity towards the woman than anything Arthur felt towards her, or the vivid description of her, but.  Well.  What did it matter?  What use would Arthur be to Malachi if he fell on Miriam's side?

"She sounds dreadful."  Arthur's eyes returned to the window, but not the view outside of it.  Instead, the reflection within it captured his attention.  Malachi, first, and then the man who breathed like he was powering a fucking factory.

Would it seem suspicious of he gave the man a pill or three?  Just to knock him out, send him to sleep for hopefully the rest of the train ride.

Then again, maybe that was a worse idea.  If he sounded this bad awake, Arthur dreaded to know what he sounded like asleep.

He really would be better off dead.  Maybe five pills then?  Some heroin too?  A deadly concoction would be easy for the doctor to make, the trouble would come in finding out how to administer it.

"Should I flatter her when I meet her, then?  I want to make a good impression, but I don't want to leave you in the deep-end either.  What advice can you offer me?"