Archive of Our Own

DJ Grooves knew two things about his rival that most tabloids didn't: One, Conductor was an early bird, and two, Conductor was never one to miss any scheduled stops for the train, even if he had to cut something else short to do it. So by the time that ten AM rolled around, and the usual morning routine of Dead Bird Studios had wound down with no sign of the Owl Express, Grooves had long since grown concerned as to what was going on. He decided that his best method of action was simple: he had to call the train and ask where he was.

Unfortunately, that was a lot easier said than done, seeing as the only phone line with access to the train was on Conductor's half of the studio, ever since the time that one of the moon penguins had decided to prank call Conductor. (Yes, it was somewhat funny to ask him if his refrigerator was running, but it was much less humorous the next morning, when he woke everyone there up after the night of partying by blasting the train whistle.) Reluctantly, Grooves stepped over the line in the studio floor, and walked through the doors to the other half of the studio.

Though the doors led to the same place, the props crowded the path to the point it was hard to even see his side. Grooves walked through it, picking his way around abandoned props and the like to reach the only easily accessible place: The train platform.

There, by some seats already crowded with owls, was a phone. Grooves walked to it, picking up the receiver, and dialed the number written in large print on the back of a bench a few yards away.

It took a moment for someone to pick up, though it wasn't Conductor who did. Instead, it was a young voice.

“Hiiii! I want to order a pizza!”

“No, lassie, yeh cannae jus’ do tha’!” Conductor's thick accent answered, though it was muffled. “Yeh gotta hand it off ta yer pops, Amelie--”

“Bye bye!” Amelie said into the receiver before Conductor took it, shoving it against his ear.

“Alright, who's this?”

“It's DJ Grooves. You're missing a stop, darling. Forgot the studio?”

“I'm nae forgetting anything!” Conductor snapped before he quickly softened. “It's-- There was a little hiccup last night, couldnae get a hold of the sitter ‘til later, that's all!”

“...Is everything alright, Conductor? You sound… stressed.”

“It's fine! I'm gonna get to the studio sooner or later. Is the sitter there? She said she'd have a green dress.”

Grooves looked around, finding an owl that fit that description. “I believe so. There's someone in a green dress, at least.”

“Good enough.” Conductor hung up before Grooves could say anything else, leaving him confused as he listened to the dial tone. He finally put the receiver back, shaking his head.

“...Is the train coming?” one of the owls asked. “I could hear Conductor, but not what he said, and I don't hear the train yet. I'm going to be so late to work--”

“It's coming, darling. He just had some trouble, that's all.”

“Oh. Well… I hope it's all okay.”

Grooves didn't answer that, just leaned against the nearest solid object that wouldn't move under his weight and began to watch the clock. It took another few minutes for the owls to hear the train coming, and another one after that for Grooves to hear it as well. As the train rolled into the station, the owls all rose, taking their luggage and assorted knickknacks with them. It stopped before long, and the doors opened, letting a few off before the parliament of owls boarded. Among the few that got off were Conductor and his daughter, Amelie.

She was an odd bird, especially when her father was taken into account, mostly because she looked like a normal owlet. In comparison, Conductor looked even more out of place, although he never seemed to mind it. Now, though, as the two got off, Amelie pulled him along, him simply following behind. He hadn't bothered to wear his suit jacket, leaving his black suspenders on full display over his rumpled white button up, and his feathers were unkempt, leaving him looking more of a mess than ever.

“Conductor?” the owl in the green dress asked.

“Yes. Sorry for the short notice, an’ fer me bein’ the one to drop her off, lass, it's… there's an emergency, yeh see…”

“I understand. Come on, Amelie.” The sitter took the young owlet’s wing, and they walked off together. Conductor sighed, watching them go.

“...go ahead an’ laugh, Grooves.”

“At what? I mean, yes, you do look like you climbed out of a hole somewhere, but that's usual with children.”

“Because my life's a peckin' nightmare already, that's why.” Conductor sat down on one of the benches, burying his head in his hands. “Jus’ get it over with. Make fun of me. Do whatever yeh needed ta call me on me train fer.”

“...You mentioned an emergency, darling?” Grooves asked, and he leaned over the back of the bench. “...Is everything alri--”

“Kenna's gone, Grooves.”

He fell silent, trying to figure out what he meant. “Is-- was she in the hospital, or--”

“No. Got home last night, an’... I found the note. Told me she was leavin’, that Amelie was asleep, an’... That I was on me own.”

“Oh. Oh my.” Grooves sighed. “...Darling, I couldn't imagine--”

“No, yeh couldnae. It's… Amelie's gonna grow up without a mum. I thought-- I didnae think. That's what it is.”

“...I'm sorry, darling.”

“Dinnae apologize. It's me own peckin' problem. Me wife left, Grooves. Didnae even tell me goodbye.”

He pulled his leg up onto the bench, clawing at the band tied there. It took a while for him to get it off, and as soon as he did, he threw it as hard as he could. It bounced ineffectively off the train window it hit, ricocheting onto the ground in front of him. He stared at the red band, silent. After ten years of marriage, the metal had lost its luster, and the coloring had worn into dullness, leaving it a rusty color instead.

“....Peck it all.”

“You know, you could take a day off--”

“A day off? Yeh really think that'd work? Bah!” Conductor nearly spat, dragging his hat down over his face. “The train needs me.” He stood, taking the red band with him. “Dinnae tell anyone about this.”

“Darling, the news’ll find out anyways. I'll try to keep it quiet, though.”

It took about a week for news of the separation to break, after a few owls picked up on Amelie's constant presence on the train and in the studio. It wasn't for Conductor's lack of trying-- he'd done everything and more in a desperate attempt to keep them from wondering about his relationship status, but the news still slipped out one way or another.

Grooves kept his mouth shut on the topic, only offering silence if reporters or penguins even tried to speak to him about the subject. The penguins still tried a few times to see what he thought-- a few suggesting hints about the assumed crush that many a tabloid had pushed over the years-- but he didn't budge. There was enough on Conductor's plate, and with each passing day, it became more obvious that he wasn't giving himself a break.

About a week after that, Grooves finally devised a plan to force him to take a break using the one thing he'd noticed always worked-- making Conductor think he was the one doing something he could lord over Grooves, instead of Grooves outright offering assistance of some sort. With Conductor, the relationship was always tense, with transactional truces stopping fights for only a while before one of them said the wrong thing, or took something without realizing it was the other's, or whatever else. This time, it was Grooves' turn to offer the olive branch. He tracked him down, finding him sitting in his office with his head down. He was barely moving-- possibly asleep, possibly deep in thought-- and Amelie sat on the floor nearby, playing with one of the many toy trains that Conductor kept around for occasions like this.

“Conductor, darling?” Grooves asked, knocking on the doorway. Conductor jumped, nearly falling out of his chair. From that alone, it was clear he'd been asleep.

“What-- what d'yeh want, Grooves?!”

“I need a favor. You see, I happened to make this… well…” he searched for the word, though he already knew it. “...I had a personal appointment if you catch my drift.”

“Jus’ call it a peckin’ date, Grooves. I'm nae gonna mind.”

“Well, it fell through. He's not replied for a while, and I can't exactly cancel, so... If you wouldn't mind, could I borrow you for a while?"

"...What?"

"I'm asking if you'd like to join me in going to a few things. Nothing major, of course-- dinner, a walk, a little special thing I wanted to do to show off. But I can't exactly go alone, so... Conductor, darling, please?”

“...I cannae do that, lad. I have ta find somethin’ fer Amelie ta do. A sitter's hard enough ta keep when I'm tryin' ta do the movies an’ the train, so unless yeh can find a sitter--”

“Absolutely understandable. I just suppose that I was thinking too much of you and what you could do.”

“Wh-whatta-- What the pe-- eh, what d'ya mean by that?!”

Grooves had to stop himself from smiling. “You have a lot on your plate, that's all. I don't think you could handle me putting something else on there.”

“Of course I can handle somethin' else, yeh peckneck!” Conductor snapped, then looked to Amelie. “Uh, yeh didnae hear that word, okay? Dinnae copy yer papa.”

“Huh?” She asked, looking up. “I was gonna make the train go to the moon and pick up Mr. Grooves! Hi, Mr Grooves! Did you like the train ride?”

“It was lovely,” he said, unsure what else he could say. When it came to children, he wouldn’t say he was bad with them, but he never knew how to react when they talked to him. Usually, they were like rogue actors, showing up on the set of a movie he’d rehearsed and throwing a wrench into his plans. Amelie was no different, even after six years of being… aware of her existence, not that he’d met her often. 

“The train sure does move fast, huh, Amelie.” Conductor sounded pleased with her, even if it was small. “...An’ Grooves? Yer on. Jus’... make sure yeh find me a sitter before we head out, alrigh’? I dinnae have the time ta look fer one.” 

“Alright, darling. It’s tonight-- Six o’clock. Don’t miss it.”

“Nae unless yeh miss findin’ her a sitter.” He got up, then crouched to be at his daughter’s height as she sat on the floor. “Alright, lassie. D’yeh wanna go fer another ride ‘round the studio? Yer papa has ta check on the owls, an’ if yer good, I'll even see if we got another juice thingy.”

“Yay!” Amelie cheered, and she stood up, making grabbing gestures for him. Conductor easily picked her up over his head, setting her on his shoulders. “Choo-choo!”

Grooves quickly moved out of the way, as Conductor moved through, carrying his daughter. Amelie waved as they passed, and Grooves couldn’t help but smile.

He’d managed to get what he wanted. Conductor was finally getting out of his rut, whether he liked it or not. 

By the time that 6 rolled around, Grooves had, in fact, managed to find a sitter. Though it took some convincing, the receptionist had promised to keep an eye on Amelie until they got back, and the two of them were ready to go.

Of course, it did take some time to prepare-- trying to look good was a hard task when Conductor was a new divorcee and Grooves always took his time when the paparazzi would obviously be looking, but both pulled through, meeting in the lobby.

“Hello, darling. Think the sitter will manage?”

“Eh. This one’s dealt with us fer how long?”

“Point taken.” Grooves managed a little smile. “If you want the itinerary, I can tell you the restaurant, but you’ll have to trust me on the surprise afterward, alright?”

“Dinnae make me regret sayin’ yes ta this.” Conductor adjusted his tie. “An’ I’m gonna get me insults out now. Yeh look like a disco ball if it was penguin-shaped, an’ I dinnae like yer shoes, but at least they make me look like I’m nae as short as yeh do usually, so that’s nice.”

“And I think you could’ve at least changed your tie, your suits are drab and uninspired as your movies, and I understand why you tend to leave your hat on most of the time because your head looks weird without it, but I’m grateful you’re not wearing it for this,” Grooves answered. “Truce?”

“Truce. An’ what if somethin’ goes wrong? If somethin’ happens with the sitter, or Amelie--”

“Then you tell me that, and we go right back to the studio to make sure it’s okay.”

“An’ if the press-- What if they’re askin’ questions about Kenna--”

“Darling, what do you always tell me about them?”

“...Right. Tell ‘em ta peck off.”

“Exactly. And I won’t even mind the language.”

“That desperate fer a date, eh?” Conductor joked. Grooves rolled his eyes.

“Darling, when was the last time you and Kenna had a date?”

The silence was long, as Conductor thought it through. He kept opening and closing his mouth, finally settling on “It's been since Amelie's egg was laid.”

“...That long?”

“Seven years or so, yeah.”

“...So I suppose both of us are desperate now, aren't we.”

“Let's just go ta the restaurant. Do they have alcohol? I'm nae drinkin’; I got work tomorrow.”

“I won't either-- I'm driving.”

“Oh. Well, then let's make the best of it.” Conductor offered Grooves his arm, and Grooves took it, guiding him to his car.

“I'll even let you choose the music.”

“Cawnny Cash.”

“...I am regretting letting you choose the music.”

“If yeh dinnae like Hurt, then…”

“Hurt is a cover, darling. It's not his song.”

“Yeh cannae be serious!”

“I'm serious! It's technically not his song--”

“But his cover is so much better!” Conductor crossed his arms, and got into the car. “Yer nae gonna get me ta back down on that, Grooves.”

“Fine. His cover is better, but at the same time, that doesn't make it his . It's just his cover.” Grooves sat down, and turned on the car, turning down the music. The duo drove in relative quiet, the only sound the soft drone of the music as Conductor fiddled with the radio to find whatever station would make him comfortable in a car instead of the train. The quiet was comfortable, at least, the kind of quiet that Grooves could take instead of the kind that felt suffocating, like the studio had been over the last few days.

“How are we supposed ta do this? Just enjoy a meal, go fer a walk, an’...”

“Exactly. Get something we like, maybe sing a round of karaoke, and then we can go to the last part. I promise I won't keep you too long.”

“What restaurant is it?”

“It's a little local place-- McDowell's, I think? I reserved a small table for two, away from prying eyes, but with karaoke going on, it's much more likely that'll have people's attention.” 

“McDowell's, eh?” Conductor nodded with a small smile. “Good choice. Been there plenty o’ times meself, the karaoke selection's good too. Kenna used ta sing with the richest voice, always the same song-- Travelin’ Soldier.” He sighed. “...Good song, but… I havenae heard it in so long. It wouldnae be the same if it's nae her singin’ anyway.”

“You don't have to do karaoke if you don't want to, but it is a nice way to pass the time while waiting for your food…”

“I know yer gonna do it either way.” Conductor shrugged. “But gimme a chance to think on if I'm gonna do it.”

“Of course.” Grooves parked the car, and the two entered the restaurant only a few minutes later. With the reservation in place, it took no time at all to reach their table, close enough to the front to hear the karaoke but far enough that the sound of tuneless renditions of old songs were easy enough to ignore. Conductor didn’t even need a menu before ordering his drink.

“Hot coffee. Hot enough to burn. No milk, no sugar, just heat . Yeh get it?”

“Yep. And you?”

“I’d like a glass of water,” Grooves answered, looking over the menu. “Thank you very much.”

“I’ll get those for you right away.” The waiter walked off, leaving the two of them alone.

Conductor was silent for a moment, before finally coming up with something to say-- “Back ta Black. That’s what they’re goin’ with? With an outfit like that, I dinnae think they got the swing fer it.”

“Now, now, darling, you have to let them try. You never know what someone’s like until they open their mouth.”

“Yer one ta talk about that. Yeh look like the sort of person yeh are.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“...Yeah, yeh should, I think.” Conductor looked up towards the karaoke. “...Yeh ever come here before?”

“Wow, we’re jumping right to ‘do you come here often,’ are we?” Grooves cracked a smile as he took off his sunglasses. With the dull lights of the pub, it was easier to see that way. “I haven’t, actually. I just heard it was good.”

“Heh. Yeh heard right, then. It is. Used ta come here all the time b’fore work an’ stuff happened ta get in the way.”

Grooves knew that. He’d heard about it from the penguins and the owls, not that he’d ever tell Conductor he’d paid that much attention. No, it was better to let Conductor think that he’d just randomly chosen a place, and never let him know the truth. After all, it was supposed to be for some imaginary boyfriend.

“Y’know, it was a good bit of comfort food. I’d always get the same thing. Cullen skink. It’s, ah, fish an’ potatoes in a real thick soup. What d’yeh think yer gettin’?”

“I wouldn’t know. Any recommendations?”

“Fish an’ chips is always a good one, an’ fer a penguin, yeh cannae go wrong with that. That or… eh, yeh wouldnae have the stomach fer haggis. Stick with the fish an’ chips.”

“Got it. I’m not going to ask what haggis is, then.”

“Good. Dinnae ask about it. Yeh’d lose yer lunch.”

Grooves smiled, though it was more out of sheer confusion than actual happiness. Whatever he meant by that, it was likely something he didn’t want answers to. 

The music had started by then, and though Grooves wouldn’t admit it, the singer was dreadful, despite her efforts to bring her own energy to the song. Conductor winced at the sound, though it was slight enough that most anyone else wouldn’t notice. 

“...She’s a bit pitchy,” Grooves mumbled.

“A bit? Yer too kind ta her.”

“It could just be out of her range. It happens to everyone.”

“Then yeh just find a song yeh can sing an’ do it good ‘til the end of time like the rest of us.”

“Or, of course, you could branch out of that comfort zone, and find something else just a bit out of it to reach for.”

Conductor scoffed as the waiter dropped off their drinks, shaking his head. “What, are yeh gonna get up there an’ prove ta the whole place yer the king of music, or whatever yeh say?”

“If I were to say that, it would be emperor of pop , and I don’t say that anyways because I’d want someone else to give me the title.”

“Ah. Like emperor penguins. I get the joke.”

“I wasn’t--” Grooves chuckled. “You are such a dad.”

“What? What does that have ta do with anythin’?”

“The bad puns, the strict adherence to your comfort zone, the way you act about your daughter… I think it’s obvious.” Grooves covered his beak with a flipper, almost laughing. “It explains so much about you, honestly.”

Conductor only groaned, burying his head in his hands. The waiter returned, breezing by the two.

“Have you decided what you’re ordering?”

Conductor didn’t react, just letting his head fall to the table.

“I’ll have the fish and chips, and he’ll have the cullen skink, if you don’t mind. Thank you, darling.”

“Got it.” The waiter wrote down a note on his notepad, then quickly left just as fast as he’d arrived. As the song wound down, Conductor stood, brushing himself off.

“What are you doing, darling?”

“Provin’ I can get outta me comfort zone. I’m gonna do somethin’ stupid. An’ yer nae allowed ta get any recordin’ of it.”

“Alright, alright, whatever you say, Conductor.” He raised his flippers in mock surrender. “I won’t stop you.”

Conductor ran up to the front, nearly immediately taking the mic once the song was over. Though the girl was shaking, she still cheered, and her friends cheered just the same. Conductor barely took any time to scroll through the list of songs for karaoke, choosing one seemingly at random, and he set the mic up before running a few steps, grabbing a chair, and carrying it over his head to be by the microphone. The moment the music started, he had hopped onto the chair, sitting there with the mic. It wasn’t exactly the best look for him, but hey, Grooves was willing to roll with whatever he did.

He didn’t expect for Conductor to be a good singer, of course. He knew that his voice would be a bit screechy, or maybe too loud for its own good, like half the words that Conductor ever spoke. Conductor glanced at the screen, taken aback for a second, but he quickly nodded, tapping his foot along to the beat. The quiet music played out, a soft guitar picking out a melody. 

Despite Grooves’ expectations, though, Conductor’s voice was gentle, the accent only adding to the rich sound.

“Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, I’m beggin’ of yeh, please don’t steal my man…”

It was wistful and sad, the same feeling Grooves got from smelling the coffee sitting across the table from him, somehow. There was something about Conductor’s voice, something he couldn’t quite explain.

“Yer beauty is beyond compare, with flamin’ locks of auburn fur, with a long red tail and eyes of emerald green…”

Grooves closed his eyes to better listen, nodding along with the beat of the song.

“An’ I could easily understand, how you could easily take my man, but you don’t know what he means to me, Jolene.”

Conductor poured his heart into the song, his voice hitching on specific words as he sang along to the karaoke machine. Grooves could hear the choke in his voice, the knot in his throat that he was ignoring, the way he put everything into it. Maybe that was why people liked his movies-- they saw him putting everything into something and knew it was his.

“You could have your choice of men, but I could never love again, he’s the only one fer me Jolene. I had to have this talk with you, my happiness depends on you, an’ whatever you decide ta do, Jolene.”

Grooves opened his eyes as the waiter set down two plates, one for each of them, but he didn’t start eating. Not when Conductor was still up there, clutching the mic with both hands as if it would run away from him.

“Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, please don’t take him even though you can…” Conductor finally set the mic back in the stand. 

Grooves stood, clapping for him as the music wound down. Conductor deflated when he returned to the table, letting out a deep breath.

“That was incredible. I didn’t know you could sing, darling.”

“I dinnae do it often, jus’ lullabies fer Amelie.” Conductor waved a hand. “B’sides, I’m nae a fan of doin’ that in front of many people.”

“That, and I wouldn’t expect you to sing a song like… well, that.”

“I’m nae disrespectin’ Dolly. She makes good music, what’re yeh expectin’?”

“Some song about your train, mostly.”

Conductor scoffed as he picked up his spoon. “I got more ta me than jus’ me train, Grooves… B’sides, I’m on a date with yeh, of course I’m gonna sing about losin’ me man.”

On a date with me.

The words coming from Conductor made it sound a lot more real than Grooves expected. It was obviously a lie, since they both were fully aware of it being just a fake date, but at the same time, Conductor had said it, in public, where others could hear. Grooves stared at him as he took a loud sip of cullen skink. 

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing, you’re just… Well, nothing. It’s nothing. I’m just thinking.” Grooves floundered in his search for a good comment, eventually just turning to his dish and taking a bite of fish. He knew he was blushing, but he didn’t know what else to say. The two continued eating in relative silence as someone else took the mic to croon out a rendition of a love song that Conductor didn’t seem to recognize. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, of course-- they’d existed in the same area, eating in silence dozens of times. Break room over warm caffeine-based drinks to wake up, lunch breaks, late nights during crunch time-- It was a common occurrence. It was only rare that the silence wasn’t interspersed with interruptions from cast and crew alike, dragging the two of them away whenever there was a problem on set of any sort. 

“...So, darling… did you watch that new movie by that finch fellow?”

“Havenae had the time. How bad is it?”

“Dreadful. Absolutely horrible. He tried to make a fantasy movie this time… It worked about as well as his last film, really. The characters were flat, the dialogue would’ve been better if Amelie wrote it, and the effects-- goodness. I wouldn’t say they were dated, that implies they ever would’ve looked good.”

Conductor laughed. “Oh? Did yeh see strings, or was it the digital ones?”

“Digital, but with how poorly rendered it was? More like analog .” Grooves shook his head with a small chuckle. “Not even mentioning the terrible plot. I thought there was supposed to be rising and falling action, but this one? All there was in that movie was the most boring exposition in the world. If he was in a writing class, he’d have gotten that script back with so much red ink, it could fill a swimming pool.” Grooves rolled his eyes.

“I bet. I remember his last one too-- I Hope Yeh Laugh or whatever it was? Those jokes were only funny because they were so bad. That one-- Remember?”

“Oh, stars, of course I remember. Hey, baby, I need a map, ‘cause I’m getting lost in your eyes. ” Grooves shook his head. “Like that wasn’t a line older than me. And she still thought it was new?”

“Got me wife with a line like that, yeh know.” Conductor chuckled. “Told her she was on fire after she did a dance onstage… She started checkin’ if she’d actually caught fire.”

“What?” He almost laughed. “Really?

“Well, it was right after she'd heard about the fire spirits in Subcon-- they dance around fires a lot, so some people think that's how they start the fire. Nope. They just like both. An’ they start fires with their thoughts, anyways.”

“You talk about them like you know them.”

“Eh, a bit. Train used ta go ta Subcon. Now, it's more of a once-a-year thing. No one goes there anymore anyway.”

“Hm. Then why go there at all?”

“Tradition.” Conductor shrugged. “I dinnae have a good reason.”

The quiet resumed as they finished their food and Grooves paid the bill, the two leaving soon after a mourning dove picked up the mic to attempt a version of Your Song that inevitably devolved into a bit of spoken word poetry that neither was in the mood for. 

“So, Grooves, yeh told me yeh had a surprise… Where’re we headed?”

“Now, darling, I can’t tell you. It’d ruin the surprise. But it is relatively close by, at least-- I made sure to wear these shoes so I could walk the distance.” He took Conductor’s hand in his flipper. “I won’t even make you close your eyes for this one.”

“Good. I dinnae trust yeh ta nae walk me inta a lamppost.” Conductor still followed his lead as the two of them continued walking. The sidewalk was smooth enough that it wasn’t hard to walk and talk without paying attention to the path, thankfully-- It wouldn’t do to suddenly trip.

“I do have to say, I’m a little worried it won’t be as impressive to you now. After all, I’m not even sure if you’re interested in this-- I just remember that the guy I was going to be out with mentioned he liked movies, so I was hopeful this would be something up his alley.”

“Well, depends on which movies. If it's anythin' like yers, then yeh better make it good.”

“Now, now, darling, I know you better than that.”

Conductor laughed, and he likely would’ve rolled his eyes if they were visible underneath his feathers. “Yeh dinnae know a lot of things, Grooves.”

“Well, of course. No one knows everything. I don’t know how long it would take to go back to the moon. But there’s something I do know-- the best movie of all time.”

“Percival’s White Star,” both said at the same time.

“Oh, good, you’ll like this a lot then.” Grooves stood by a dock as a ship arrived. Conductor stared for a moment, his mouth dropping open.

“Yer… yer jokin’ . Yeh didnae…”

“I did.”

“GROOVES!” Conductor exclaimed. “THE PECKIN’-- THE WHITE STAR--”

“Yep.” Grooves smiled. “I thought it could be a good time to tour a set.”

“How did yeh--”

“Pulled a few favors. Found a few contacts. And… I mentioned that it was for someone close to me.” He gave Conductor’s hand a squeeze, then gestured to the way up. “All aboard?”

“...Peck, lad… I dinnae know how I’m supposed ta thank yeh fer this.”

“Then don’t. Let’s go, darling. The ship won’t be here all night.”