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The sound of Sting's boots hitting the cobblestone road rings loud through the silence of the night, perhaps only overpowered by his ragged breathing as he runs like he's never ran before.
Every desperate intake of breath comes as a stab to his chest, making him almost regret declining the luxury hotel room that had his name on it- one of the perks of guild master's meetings, and a necessary one since those could drag on until after the last trains had already departed.
But not tonight; Sting approaches the station and spots that lonely last train, and he runs faster, expending every bit of energy and muscle power he has left when he hears the conductor's whistle.
He all but launches himself into the train at the very last second, the doors nearly catching on his legs as they close, and the train starts rolling forward, instantly causing his insides to twist in misery.
He surrenders to his motion sickness, which doesn't give him a chance to catch his breath, but knowing he'll be coming back home to the smiles of Lector and Frosch and the warmth of Rogue's embrace tonight makes it all worthwhile.