"Hey. Raccoon."
For a moment there, you just about forgot where you were. You don't make it a habit to sleep on trains, as comfy as the seats are. Not to say you've been sleeping too great; every inch closer to Apricot Bay feels like a mistake, and your stomach won't let you forget it.
You look up. An ermine in a brown coat and slacks towers over your seat, staring at you through big, round glasses.
"Are we getting close to Apricot Bay?"