The train rattled as it moved, the passengers swaying along with the motion. The hard patter of rain had eased up until Abigail could see out the window instead of streaks of water. She fidgeted in her seat as she worked up the potential conversations she could strike up with the target her father had picked. It had to be perfect. Her father said this would be the last one for a while; he promised they would take a break. She'd like that, she thought. It was taxing, but, it made her father happy. Abigail wanted him to be happy. She took a deep breath and steadied herself.
"Is this seat taken?"
Abigail was torn from her thoughts as a woman with long, blonde hair hovered by the seat across from her. Her hand was on the back of the chair and the other grasping her backpack strap. Abigail mentally cursed but smiles.
"No, go ahead."
The blonde flashed her a dazzling smile, and Abigail was momentarily stunned by her beauty. The blonde tucked her bag in the overhead compartment and glided into her seat. She held out her hand, flashed another smile, and introduced herself. "My name is Mischa, what's yours?"
"Abigail Hobbs," Abigail took Mischa's hand. When their hands parted, she became aware she gave Mischa her real name. An amateur slip, and she could feel his disapproval from where he was sitting a few seats back. Abigail thought of a way to excuse herself.
"Where are you headed?" Mischa asked.
"To talk to that girl," Abigail blurted. Why did she say that?
"Oh?" Mischa looked over at Abigail's target, and she gave her a sly look. "I meant where you were traveling to, but I see I am interrupting something. She is pretty cute, isn't she?"
"What?" Abigail, who's mind was still trying to wrap around her slip up, felt her face heat up as Mischa wagged her eyebrows. "Oh no, not like that. I'm—"
Mischa held up her hand. "No, no. No need to explain. I know the thrill of young love. I remember my first love at first sight." She sighed, her eyes closed in a dreamy manner. Abigail tilted her head, her head feeling a little clearer. Mischa looked like she was a few years older than her, three years max perhaps. Yet, she acted like she was much older. It reminded Abigail of conversations with her grandmother.
The sun found a break in the clouds and brought a warm light through the windows. Mischa winced.
"Do you mind terribly if I close the blinds?" She asked as she reached up and pulled them down. "I was up late last night. Midterms have been a bitch this year."
"Are you in college? Abigail inquired instead of answering 'no, I don't mind' like her brain told her to do. She could barely spit out the question, and it caused her words to fumble. Mischa laughed.
"Yes, it is my… hm, let's see," she paused to think. "Actually I don't know what year I'm in. I've changed my major so much." She chuckled and shook her head. "My brother wanted me to go into psychiatry, but I found it too tiring, too boring."
"That's okay, not everyone knows what they want to be when they grow up," Abigail reassured.
"Do you know what you want to be?" Mischa asked.
"A photographer," Abigail said, then, almost against her will, added, "It's kind of like hunting."
This caught Mischa's attention. "Oh, you hunt?" Abigail nodded. "What do you hunt? Deer? Or something a little more wild?" Her eyes seemed to light up, her brown, near maroon eyes almost appearing red in the dim lighting.
Abigail was taken aback, and before she could respond, the train began to slow, and Mischa's attention was diverted to the window. She took a tentative peek behind the blind.
"Looks like this is my stop."
She jumped to her feet, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and grabbed her overhead bag with a grace Abigail knew she couldn't pull off if she tried.
Mischa winked before heading to the doors. "It's been fun, Abigail. Hope we bump into each other again sometime."
Abigail waited until Mischa was out of sight before opening the blinds. She followed the swing of blonde hair as Mischa approached a man in unfitting clothes and unruly hair, but he had the most electrifying blue eyes Abigail had ever seen. He was holding an open umbrella despite the lack of rain.
The two hugged. Mischa placed a kiss to his cheek; the man smiled. Not a boyfriend, Abigail mused. He was too young to be her father. He could be the brother she had mentioned, but he held no resemblances. Adopted, perhaps?
The train started to move. Abigail was about to close the blind until something, or rather someone, caught her eye. She felt her stomach drop.
The target had left the train.
"You'd be so proud of me, papa," Mischa chattered as she reclined in the front seat of Will's car. "I saved a human today, but I don't think the hunter really wanted to kill her. She seemed sad actually."
"Don't call me papa," Will said with no heat to his words. "Why did you think she was in danger?"
"Just intuition."
The car reeked of dogs, but Mischa smiled as she picked off the hairs from her jacket. "Pick up a new stray?"
Will hummed and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for the light to turn. "How have your tests been? Did you manage to pass any of them this time, or where you too busy partying again?"
"Blatantly avoiding the question I see. Definite yes," Mischa laughed, and Will flashed her a smile. "What's his name?"
"Winston."
"He sounds adorable."
"I haven't even described him yet, Mischa."
"All of your dogs are adorable."
Will shook his head and rolled his eyes. It was an improper habit Hannibal had not been able to break him of. Speaking of which…
"Does Hanni know you have another dog?"
"What he doesn't know won't hurt me."
"Hanni hurting you?" Mischa raised an eyebrow at that, and Will gave a rueful smile.
"He does keep a large sack of garlic on hand."
"You are both ridiculous," Mischa rolled her eyes, a habit Hannibal couldn't break her from either which he blamed Will. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm exhausted and I'm going to take a nap."
"We will be there in less than ten minutes."
"Plenty of time to nap."
Mischa reached back and pulled a blanket absolutely covered in dog hair from the backseat, reclined her chair a little more, and threw the blanket over her face. Will was constantly amazed by his childe, not that he would say that out loud. She had an ego that rivaled her brother's. He adjusted the volume on the radio and tried to think of a way to get out of being in trouble for allowing Mischa to be covered in dog hair. There was no good solution.