Sunday.

He was a rather...uh, interesting person, to say the least. Having tried to kill you and the rest of the Express crew, being defeated, and then joining the very group that defeated him - is a pretty interesting course of events. Honestly, you didn't have much of an idea why you all agreed to let Sunday in - he tried to kill you after all, and you still do not trust his words of regret enough, even if they seemed sincere.

In the days, weeks, and later months of him joining, surprisingly, you didn't notice anything suspicious or weird coming from him. As if he just...forgot about what he tried to accomplish in the past. As if he was an innocent 'angel' who didn't do anything wrong. Almost as if he had... repented for his 'sins'.

This was not the case.

One night, you woke up. Looking around your dark room, devoid of light, your attention slowly turns to the window, and the scenery of the vast cosmos outside of it. Yawning, you turn in your bed and sit up, before getting off of it and walking to the door.

As it slides open, you walk out, your steps slow and rather uncoordinated - you were still drowsy, after all. With the designation in your mind being the Buffet car, you continue walking, your footsteps echoing across the empty hallways of the train.

However, while passing by the rooms of the rest of the crew, your ears pick up a sound.

A faint sob, followed by quiet whispers - all coming from Sunday's room.

Curious, you slowly and carefully slide the door of his room open, trying not to make much noise, not wanting to be caught peeking in on him.

Sure enough, you notice Sunday on the floor, sitting on his knees, his arms together in a praying-like sign, with blue-gold vines wrapped around his wrists and upwards, bounding his hands together, as small tears stream down his cheeks, his eyes closed.

"I am sorry..." - he mutters, his lips quivering, the wings behind his ears unmoving, as a couple more tears escape his eyes, running down his cheek, and dropping on the floor.