“Who are you?” I demanded, a thread of suspicion weaving through my voice.
The man merely parroted the question back at me, his own brow turned in equal confusion. I frowned, curious yet wary, as I tried to catch a better glimpse of the figure through the drapery obscuring the window. He seemed almost impossibly tall and was wearing a deep blue cloak that whispered with secrets.
Eventually, he spoke. “My ticket says that I have been assigned Room 6.”
“Excuse me?” Confusion laced my tone as I hastily consulted my own ticket. The words “First Class, Room 6” gazed back at me as I double-checked the information. There had to be a mistake—I was always under the impression that the benefit of first class was having the solitude of a private cabin.
