All Claire could do was offer a helpless shrug when the conductor narrowed his eyes on her. His mouth worked but no words came out, and Claire knew that he wanted to find some way to expose their lie. In an attempt to add more credibility to their story, Claire tried to replace her confused expression with a sheepish smile.

The conductor regarded her a moment longer before he turned towards the new arrival. As the larger man shifted, Claire was given her first glimpse of her mysterious savior. It was a young man, tall, handsome and utterly at ease. He leaned casually against the wall beside the conductor, arms crossed lazily across his chest, his shaggy blond hair, long and disheveled, falling forward to frame his face. When her eyes met his, the congenial smile on his mouth curved upwards into something more mischievous.

"You know this young woman?" the conductor inquired at last, his tone suggesting he didn't entirely believe them. Claire wasn't sure what to say, and hoped her confusion would only help to solidify their attempt at subterfuge rather than expose them as the con-artists they were.

"Of course," the young man stated. "She's my wife."

"Your... wife?"

"What are you implying, sir? Are you trying to say that this woman isn't good enough to be a man's wife?" he demanded.

He pushed himself away from the wall and scowled. When he was standing upright, he stood a few inches taller than the conductor who was now forced to look up if he wanted to meet the young man's narrowed gaze. "She is flighty at times, often forgets which way is up, and dresses strangely, but she is just as worthy of love as the next person."

Despite knowing that it was just a sham, Claire couldn't help but feel slightly offended when he commented on her clothing. What was wrong with what she was wearing? She resisted the urge to frown and instead picked absently at a loose string on the inside of her coat sleeve.

"Of course not sir," the conductor replied hotly, his face growing flush. "Forgive me, I meant no offense."

"None taken," the young man quipped, returning to his previous lean. "Now if you will excuse me, I will just collect my wife-"

The conductor's arm shot out to block him causing his words to falter and his steps to stop short.

"Tickets first," the conductor stated dryly. "Then you and your wife can do as you please."

Claire felt her heart sink in her chest. She had been hoping, and perhaps the stranger had as well, that the distraction would be enough to get the man's mind off the tickets.

Unfortunately, it had not.

"Of course, I have them right here," the young man replied. Claire's gaze dropped towards his hand which had slid easily into the wide pocket of his loose, black pants. She watched as he produced what looked like two large cards. While she couldn't say for sure what sort of card they were, she could almost certainly tell they were not train tickets. Her gaze met the young man's once more and he winked before turning his attention back to the conductor.

"Here you are," he stated and with a flick of his wrist presented the cards to the waiting man. Claire struggled to contain her surprise. As his hand rolled palm up she saw that the cards, which were caught between his fingers, were no longer cards, but two train tickets. The conductor regarded the tickets briefly and then promptly punched a hole in each corner of the ticket.

With another flick of his wrist and a flourish, the tickets found their way back to the stranger's pocket, only they weren't tickets anymore, Claire was sure of it.

"Apologies for the confusion, ma'am. We're expected to arrive in Avala in four hours," the conductor stated curtly before moving on down the hallway shouting tickets at the top of his lungs. It wasn't until he had moved on to the next car that Claire finally let out the breath she had been holding.

"Well that was fun," her newfound companion declared.

Fun wasn't exactly the word Claire would have used to describe the event, but that didn't matter. Before Claire had a chance to say anything, including thank you, she found herself being nudged aside as the stranger made his way past her and into her compartment.

"Well, isn't this cozy, and so spacious," he stated before he dropped lightly onto one of the benches. Unsure of what to do, Claire quickly slid the door closed and turned to regard the young man.

"Thank you for helping me out there," Claire began, her words drawing the warm gaze of the stranger her way. They were a stark contrast to the cool, icy stare she had elicited from the thief she had followed aboard. Words failed her for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure, "Anywho, um, I don't mean to be rude, but who are you?" Claire asked at last.

"Who am I, you ask? Who am I? I am the great Drazenko! My friends call me Draz, I insist you do the same, should it please you to do so, which I hope it does," he declared with an impish grin. "Enough about me, however, I am far more interested in you."

"Me? Oh, well, my name is Claire," she replied.

"Well met, Claire," Draz replied, extending his hand outwards. She reached out to take it, expecting a handshake. To her surprise he caught her fingers in his and brough the back of her hand to his lips. They were warm, and soft, and when their eyes met briefly, Claire felt a blush creeping across her cheeks. She withdrew her hand quickly, causing Draz to grin that mischievous grin he had offered her in the corridor.

Claire averted her gaze to the window in search of a distraction. The thick fog was beginning to break up revealing a lake which spread out towards the horizon like liquid silver.

Silence lingered and Claire could feel Draz watching her.

"You aren't from around here," he commented at last.

It wasn't a question, he was too observant for that. He'd made light of her odd clothing during their interaction with the conductor, but the fact remained that he had taken notice of them.

"No," Claire replied, not sure what else to say.

"You didn't have a ticket," he said again, almost thoughtfully. She sense movement but didn't turn away from the window. A moment later she felt his breath on the back of her neck.

"Why didn't you have a ticket?" The playful lightness of his voice had shifted into something far quieter, smoky even.

Claire swallowed, her mouth feeling dry. Why had he gotten so close?

"I..."

"Yes?"

She felt his fingers slip through her hair before brushing against the curve of her shoulder and coming to rest there. Claire trembled despite the warmth of the compartment. She didn't like how close he was. Without thinking, she swung around and planted her hands square in the center of Draz's chest. She pushed as hard as she could and sent the young man stumbling back. He landed hard, his body sprawled across both the couch and the floor.

She expected him to be angry, but to her surprise he laughed instead -- and couldn't seem to stop. He kept trying to speak, but each time he'd succumb to more fits of laughter. Just when Claire began to worry that he was going to suffocate, he finally managed to calm down long enough to breathe.

"Sorry," he gasped between breaths. "The look on your face was priceless. You're awful feisty, you know that?"

Claire frowned, not sure what to make of his bizarre behavior or how to maneuver around it. Clearing her throat, she allowed her frown to deepen, perhaps to emphasize her displeasure over the situation.

"I didn't find it funny," she replied at last, her voice soft but firm. Draz frowned, an expression that looked out of place on his face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," he declared as he rose nimbly to his feet. He took a step towards her, holding up both hands in front of him as though he were surrendering. "People always tell me I should think before I act, one of these days I should probably take that advice to heart."

The sincerity in his voice made it difficult for Claire to remain angry. Besides, he had gotten her out of quite a pickle so she supposed he deserved his own get out of jail free pass.

She sighed and offered a faint smile. "Maybe you should, sooner rather than later," she said at last. Draz grinned, his face lighting up almost instantly. As he moved to sit again, Claire noticed some cards littering the floor of the compartment. The deep purple backing and ornate gold swirls that decorated the backs of the cards clashed violently with the dusty red of the carpet.

She assumed they had fallen from his pocket when she pushed him over.

"I think you dropped these," she said before crouching down to pick them up.

As she scooped the cards into a small, neat stack, she marveled at the quality of the craftsmanship. These were not something you'd find on the shelf of a specialty store. Whoever had made these had put a great deal of effort into them and she imagined they were one of a kind.

There was something else, something she couldn't quite explain. The moment her fingers had come into contact with the cards, an intense feeling of familiarity swept over her even though she had never seen the cards before in her life.

She sensed movement and out of the corner of her eye caught sight of Draz peering over her shoulder. He reached over and quickly pulled the cards from her hand before she could get a good look at them.

"Thank you, my dear, but they aren't fond of strangers," he explained, returning the cards to the deck. Claire glanced towards him, how could an inanimate object have feelings one way or another? With the cards no longer in her possession, the odd feeling began to fade and for that Claire was grateful.

As though he had been reading her mind, Draz smirked. "These are special cards."

"Is that why the conductor thought they were tickets?" Claire asked, watching his face.

Draz lifted broth brows in surprise and Claire felt a sense of satisfaction and relief that she hadn't been imagining things.

"You're very observant, Claire," Draz replied, twirling one of the cards smoothly between his fingers. "That can be both advantageous, and quite dangerous, depending on what you see, what you think you see, and who you see doing it."

As the card slid from finger to finger, Claire swore she saw it changing colors, from purple to blue to orange and then back again.

"I do not know about your home, but in mine, things are rarely what they seem," he continued, his voice taking on an edge of seriousness. As if to prove his point, the card snapped to a stop, caught between his middle and index finger.

"One moment you think you see one thing," he turned the card one way and then the other revealing nothing but solid white on either side, "and the next discover you were wrong." He flipped the card again, tossing it into the air and allowing it to flutter to the floor. When it finally landed, the purple and gold design had returned to the back.

As Draz moved to retrieve the card, Claire quickly reached down to pick it up first. He made no move to stop her. Had she bothered to look up she would have seen he was smirking again.

On impulse she flipped it over to examine the other side. Painted gold against a dark blue background was a single eye. No matter which way she moved the card, the eye followed her. It was a strange sensation and while she knew there was no way the card was actually watching her, it certainly felt as though it were.

"The Eye," Draz mused quietly. Claire looked up to see him gazing distractedly at the cards in his hand.

"What does it mean?" Claire asked, trying to sound disinterested. She wasn't so naive as to think this was real. She suspected it was likely some parlor trick, and that Draz was trying to draw her deeper into whatever new game he was playing.

If she sounded too eager, too accepting, he would know he had her hook, line and sinker.

"It means we should play a game," Draz declared fanning out the rest of the cards in front of him. "What do you say? Nothing serious, just something to pass the time. All you have to do is choose three cards. Nothing more, nothing less."

Three cards?

That seemed simple enough.