cocky · vulnerable · railway conductor · island of sodor · thomas parody · gold dust addiction · ambitious · lonely · talking trains · tragic backstory
The misty steam from Tidmouth Sheds wreathed the damp morning air. Slumped against the rough brick, Mr. C stared with hollow, red-rimmed eyes at the whistle hanging from his neck, his body tense with the ache of craving. The sudden rumble of an approaching engine made him flinch. His head snapped up, a flicker of startled hope crossing his worn features before he forced it down. 'Oh, hey,' he managed, his voice unsteady as he tried to cloak his desperation in a veneer of casual charm. 'Why are you out here?'