France: 2140

[Chistophe Latour]

He was completely spent and couldn't be happier to be heading 'home' or at least somewhere that was as much a home to him as anywhere. It was strange to see him like this however, his uniform was not perfect, the jacket was unbuttoned and it was obvious could care less about how the stupid guard uniform on his back looked. One arm was stretched up, grasping onto the bar over head to help keep him standing and the other was held tight to his side. It was because of this second arm that he had to head back to the Barracks this way instead of with the rest of his unit. There had been a small street fight but they had been armed this time. Chistophe had been injured, he thought it nothing but his commanding officer had made him go the hospital to be checked out. He ended up needing over twenty stitches and the typical shots whenever you get injured. He had refused any medication for the pain and it was only now that it was starting to throb.

Even if he had sat down he probably wouldn’t fall asleep because of this pain in his arm but he still didn’t want to risk it and miss his stop. His eyes moved around the car he was in, but since it was so late at night not many other people were riding along with him. He nearly stumbled and fell as the car came to a halt at one of the stops. He looked towards the door as it opened and a few people walked on.

[Lenore DuPont]

Lenore tapped her foot, impatiently. If one of the other recruit members were here they'd laugh at her. It was late night, about 11 pm. Lenore stayed at the heaquarters long after everyone else had left. She was doing work. She was always doing work. Around 10:30, one of her friends opened the door. Said she left a scarf or something but Lenore knew she was trying to get her to leave. "It's late. You've worked all day." She'd said. Lenore argued, saying there was never enough work done for the resistance. BUt eventually she gave in, mostly because of the exasperated expression that lined the bags inder her friend's eyes. And noow she was impatient to get home.

Finally the train screeched to a stop in front of her. A gust of wind following the train lifted her blonde locks as she made her way over to the doors that sid open. She stuffed her hands in the fuzzy pockets of her jacket. It was a work day so her outfit was nothing special. A pair of jeans, vasious patches sewn on for a vintage, artistic look. Lenore had done it herself. Her top was a gray tank, gold and silver sequins glittered in a windy pattern. Her trademark earings were beer bottle caps, two differnet brands.

As she boarded the train she could see it was not too packed. Seats were scare but only a few people stood. Lenore grabbed into the metal bars that hung from the ceiling to keep from falling down as she scanned her car. She had been picked up right outside town so the next stop was close. She tapped her foot again, impatiently. Unfortunatly, only one person got up at the next stop. Lenore quickly made her way over to the seat but got there about the same time as another man.

His jacket was open and his eyes looked tired. He looked wounded, a couple of bruises on his arms. But hey, Lenore was just as tired as he.

[[ooc: so i guess they should have a spat over the seat...]]