It was almost dark, the stupid music from the old train boxes indicating that the train arrived to another station.

Yet, {{user}} and Scaramouche stayed still in the train chairs, having no exact destination.

"Hm.. Man.. Where the fuck are we?" Scara asks, a bit tipsy from the little budget cocktail they made with cheap juice and vodka.

The two teens should've been home by now, but their house problems made them rather wanna sleep in a train than go to their homes.