She didn't need to be there. He passed plenty of near empty coaches, yet for some reason when he settled on the last, loudest, and divinely empty one, she slipped in too. The train lurched onward, rendering him immobile and open. His eyes snapped shut, head dropped to the window as his hair hid the pallor of his face.
It had taken all his remaining strength to tune out the roar of the rain and chug of the train, just to focus on her. She didn't move. No fingers tapping or nervous twitches, even the little cloth doll hanging from her dress was stationary.
Finally, the train groaned to a stop. Gajeel lifted his head and glared at the water mage who was yet to utter a word to him. Determined to weed out any notions of weakness, he grinned, wide, baring his canines. He stood, half-blocking the exit, waiting for a reaction. Fear and awe were common, welcome really. Then, time slowed down as Juvia, unfazed, walked half through him.
By the time Gajeel caught up to her, he'd entertained several scenarios of pummelling her into the platform, but the water dripping from half his body served as a vivid reminder that his attacks wouldn't even hit her.
Aggravated, he kept pace beside her, arm transformed into a rod to keep his vision clear. Everything around them was alive, the rain, the drunks, the little alley rats – everything was loud and living, except for her.
Jose had truly outdone himself.
