Chapter Text
The train whistles to a halt, its screech tearing through the cavernous echo of the station. It won’t depart for a while, Silas mentally notes as he heads toward the room across from the platform—the one overflowing with voices.
Cold air bites at his skin, clinging stubbornly as if it could freeze him solid. He exhales slowly and tugs his leather glove higher on his right hand, the one burdened with his suitcase which causes the glove that just-doesn't-fit-quite-right to fall frequently. He's fed up with constantly pulling it back into place. Warm light spills from the open doorway ahead, and he steps inside, instantly grateful for the heat that wraps around him.
The cold tries to reach, sneaking in behind him, but meets its end as it melts into the warmth. Silas shuts the door with a practiced grace, fully immersing himself in the room. Voices crash together in an ear-piercing wave, loud enough to threaten a headache before he’s even settled.
Crowds have never been his preference. Loud places either. Still, he knows how to carry himself—respectful, composed. He’d never be openly rude… unlike them. They're Liars. Manipulators. Cared for nothing but power and influence. He would never stoop so low—
A flash of color pulls him from his thoughts.
A little boy stands nearby, bright propeller hat spinning slightly atop his head, overalls splashed with color. He’s the only child in the room, and his heavy German accent—unfamiliar to most—only makes him stand out more. He pauses, seemingly unsure of where to go, and Silas can’t help but laugh quietly at the sheer randomness of it all. Then the boy bolts.
Someone beside Silas chuckles. “He’s caused quite the stir.”
Silas nods. “That he has.”
Time passes quickly after that. He drifts with the crowd, greeting people and falling into easy conversation. Aleksander, Skyla, Eleanor Rugby, Luigi; each person had their own quirks, their own eccentricities, and Silas finds himself oddly entertained by all of them. Before he realizes it, boarding is announced.
The train is enormous. Silas steps inside, momentarily awed by its size. “It's nice and quiet in here,” he mutters, relieved to escape the chaos of the station. He moves into a cart on the right—only to be nearly trampled by people rushing past.
“The little German boy is gone!”
At some point, that had become the child’s official title. Even Silas finds himself using it. Amid the commotion, a girl nearby speaks, Evelyn, her voice drowned in the noise. “My fellow ...... is missing.” He could barely hear her, but Silas assumes the missing word is son.
“Are you his caretaker?” he asks, genuinely curious.
“No,” she replies with a laugh. “I don’t know that German boy.”
They both laugh, the absurdity of it sinking in.
“Then who is his parent?” Silas calls out, baffled. “And where is the German boy?”
The answers he gets are no help at all.
He's genuinely dumbfounded, and, surprisingly, finds himself joining in on the hunt for him.
-
After a moment of walking through a few carts, he stumbles into the bar to which he finds the German boy with a few people, reassured that he isn't alone. Though that doesn't stop him from being confused as to why he's at a bar of all places.
Albert speaks up, "Alcohol is very healthy for little German boys! Very good for immune system." Silas just walks away with a laugh, already reassured that he has company and doesn't further need to help him.
He pushes through the crowd of people huddled at the bar, only to go face-to-face with the Von Krugers. Silas couldn't help but think, fuck my life.