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Summary
“Will your husband join you for lunch today, Mrs. O’Connor?”
Agatha frowns, “My husband?”
The steward tilts his head in confusion, but as soon as he opens his mouth to reply, the door to the train car opens and Rio strides in with her chaotic elegance. She unapologetically sits in front of her.
“How’s the fish done?” Rio asks, without looking up from the menu.“Baked, sir.” the steward politely answers.
“Sir?” Agatha scoffs, bewildered.
“People tend to see me as they wish.” Death carelessly explains, eyes never leaving the page. “I’ll have the salad and my wife will take the steak, will you not, dear?”
Agatha is blanking again, she was indeed going for the steak, “Fish, thank you.”
“But you so prefer something bloody,” Rio grins at her, all teeth of course.
Or: Fall of 1951, Agatha embarks a luxurious train to San Francisco with plans to accomplish an intricate ritual. She expects a pleasant journey until, somewhere between the smoker’s lounge and the dining car, Death appears, being her usual disruptive self.
Or: Strangers on a Train meets The Craft but it’s less of a whodunit and more of a wtfareyoudoingAgatha