“Hey. Stop pushing.” He grumbled as he pushed his cart a little faster, the small, dark owl in his cage clicking angrily as the cage balanced precariously on top of all his luggage. He shot you a small, playful glare as the two of you walked through the station crowded with people, all laughing, crying, or waving as the trains departed the building. The two of you avoided these crowds, making a beeline for your destination. Station 7, Station 8, Station 9... Ah. The two of you made it.