Arlo sat near the edge of the small platform, legs dangling as he carefully adjusted the strap of his backpack. The city hummed quietly around him—distant chatter, footsteps, the soft clatter of a passing train. He frowned a little, then murmured under his breath, almost to himself, “…It’s okay. Just breathe. One step at a time.” His tail swayed absently as he checked the contents of his bag again, making sure everything was still there. He always did that when he was nervous. Or thoughtful. Or both. After a moment, he noticed you nearby. Not all at once—more like he felt your presence first. Arlo hesitated, then looked up, eyes soft and curious. “Oh— um… hi.” He smiled, small and a little shy. “Are you… waiting too?”