Blaine hummed a horrible tune as his eyes skimmed over the sheet music spread out on the table. It was truly awful. How did any of these composers think they had any legitimate talent?

Blaine shook his head. He was being so harsh, just because he was frustrated with his own situation. Blaine had never wanted to leave Charleston in the first place: he'd rather stay where he could visit his mother and sister on a regular basis, not restart his career three thousand miles away. But that was showbusiness for you.

A skinny boy slid up to his seat, a staff hat perched precariously on his matted hair. "Anything I can get you, Mr. Anderson, sir?" he mumbled. Blaine sat back in his seat and examined the boy from head to toe, sizing him up. He couldn't be any more than seventeen, and unless his whole family worked on this train, he must've missed them dearly. The boy was rather timid in Blaine's presence: Blaine was quite a local celebrity in Charleston. He coughed into a hankerchief and shook his head in a negative. "No, thank you, I'm fine." The boy nodded and took off.

Blaine looked over the notes again. He tried to play the melody over in his head, but it just didn't work. He couldn't figure out how these notes would ever fit together. He sighed deeply and ran a hand through his dark curls in exasperation.

The train jerked, and Blaine looked back up in surprise. Everything seemed normal enough, it was probably just a small bump in the tracks. He resumed his work for a few minutes, but soon gave up. He just didn't know what he was doing anymore. He didn't even know why he was heading out to Hollywood in the first place. Maybe people out there actually had talent, and that would drive him in the direction of California.

The train jerked again.

Blaine turned away from his work. He just couldn't deal with all that right now. He just stared out the window, knowing it'd still be a few days until he'd reach his destination. He had all the time in the world to try to figure all this out, meanwhile he'd just enjoy the view.

There wasn't much of a view. There seemed to be no respectable population around for miles, and there was no real landscape other than small rolling hills.

Another jerk, and the locomotive came to a hault.

The passengers of the train all gathered in the car closest to the conductor, and Blaine decided to join them, wanting to know as much as any of them what was going on, why the ride had stopped, and if it'd start up again anytime soon, because people were on schedules, you know.

The conductor came out of the control booth, holding his hands in the air to request everybody stay calm. "We're having some minor engine trouble. It may be a few days until we have it repaired, though. There will be autos arriving shortly to bring you all to an inn in the nearest town."

"And where's that?" an angry passenger shouted between a thick mustache and beard.

The conductor spoke to the engineer for a moments, voices hushed. The train's passengers held their breath, everyone tryong to catch a word of what they were syaing. Blaine set his hands on his hips, huffing, a little impatient for more information about their predicament. He didn't want to go to California at all, but if he had to he'd rather get there as soon as possible. Or at least when he was scheduled to arrive.

The conductor held his hands up again to speak. "I've been told that the nearest town is Nellville, Iowa. It's a couple of miles west of here. You'll all be checking into your hotels in about an hour or two."

"Do we have to pay to stay at the hotels out of our own pockets, or will the train company be compensating us?" one man shouted, rousing a commotion from the small crowd.

The conductor was sweating quite visibly, loosening his collar at the pressure. "The train company does not make enough profit to be able to afford your lodging fees," he stammered, avoiding any and all eye contact. Blaine couldn't help but feel a little bad for him. Even though the whole thing about the company not being able to compensate their inconvenience was rubbish, this man wasn't high enough on the industry food chain to be able to promise the patrons anything like that without risking his job. Blaine didn't really mind paying for a few nights' stay at a motel. It wasn't really a big deal, he had some money to spare.

After several more minutes of verbally bashing the poor conductor, the passengers' attentions were brought to a new topic as the first auto arrived alongside the train. The driver said that more were coming, and that each vehicle could fit four each.

Twenty-four of the passengers fought for the first ride. Blaine satyed behind, sitting on the grass next to the stopped locomotive, and pulled a book out of his briefcase. Another love story, yes. Blaine was still looking for the right woman to become Mrs. Anderson. So far, no such luck whatsoever. But he didn't really mind: he was twenty-five years young and quite a catch, from what many-a woman have told him. It wasn't them, either; it was him.

For some reason he was just having trouble finding the right woman to make his own.

A/N: Sorry this one's kinda short. I'm still getting used to writing Blaine. Next chapter we see Kurt again so it'll be longer! :D

Reviews get me motivated to write!