The Sensible Girl - Part 3

It had been a week since she'd seen Him lounging in the double seat, sharp, evasive, beautiful. He had precipitated the disintegration of her marriage and turned her well organised, orderly life on its head. Though anxious for the future she felt she had a lot to thank him for.
She just had to decide what to do next.

The flush of emotion that flowed through her when He dropped himself into the seat in front of her, took her by surprise. It was part adolescent infatuation, part wistful worship and part lust, straight from the hips. Eyes glued to the Kindle she remained in control of her self, just about. He shuffled in his chair, put his elbows on the table, clasped his hands and leant foreword, shoulders hunched. He looked as though he was about to say something but, instead, turned his head away and winked a smile at the passenger in the seat beside him. The the middle aged man tried to scowl back, irritated by a seat fellow who's physical presence stretched well beyond the confines of His chair.
"Morning." He grumbled.
She watched them from under her eyebrows and fringe. He turned back to look at her, then tilted his head, nodding sideways in the mans direction.
"What a cunt!" He whispered, crossing his eyes. She hated swearing, cringed when she found herself cursing, considered it a sign of ignorance, a lack of self respect. He, however, had turned it into a dangerous pleasure. He was openly mocking the man next to him, not caring wether he heard or not, the only reason he whispered the words was to make the insult more conspiratorial, to draw her in, to suggest they where somehow, together. She was happy to conspire. She lowered her eyes, smiled shyly, goose bumps bristling on her forearms and thighs. The man in the strange black suit learned out into the isle and looked up and down the carriage as if he were searching for something or someone, He took a half glance at his watch then faced her again with that smile. Her cheeks blossomed.
"Busy week?" He sparkled.
She raised her head and met his gaze, realising she had begun to feel slightly cornered by his carriage filling presence. His question gave her the opportunity to turn and face Him properly, to study his immaculate face and gaze into his beautiful eyes. As she looked she saw that the golden brown of his irises was made up of glittering flecks of gold and green on a background of black filigree intersecting patterns, not unlike his suit. She leaned closer, frowning. In fact, exactly like his suit. She looked at his glowing skin, at the limit of perception she saw, or more accurately, felt the pattern there too. It's twists and curls, flowing around pores and creases with a motion almost too slow to detect. The ever changing microscopic patterning we're a glimpse of structure beyond any she comprehend. She was not shocked or fearful, she was sensible and practical, beside which, losing control of her self would achieve nothing. If anything she was disappointed, her fantasy man, as turned it out, appeared to be nothing more than that, a fantasy.
They were barely a foot apart across the small table, his face was a picture of amusement as he watched new knowledge dawn inside her and emotion flicker across her face.
"I think you know exactly the kind of week I've had." She said, her eyes slightly crossed as she looked him over at close range.
"Do I now?" He said.
For the first time she saw warmth in his eyes, she had the feeling he was proud of her, that she hadn't let him down. She couldn't remember anyone looking at her that way in a very long time and she loved him for it.
"Steady." He said, gently. She felt the word within her, spreading through her torso down the centre of her hips, through her bottom and groin. It was way too late for steady, she blushed.
She swallowed and gathered herself, found her eyes were closed and opened them. She crossed her arms on the table under her breasts but kept her face close to his, narrowing her eyelids as if she were scrutinising him.
"What are you?" She asked, sounding brave.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking up to the right. After a moment he turned back to her flattening his mouth and blowing his bottom lip out a bit.
"Janitor, I guess." He looked almost apologetic.
"Righter of wrongs, perhaps." He dropped his eyes, watching his finger tracing a figure eight shape, lying left to right.
She dropped her head to the side and looked up at him, widening her eyes, encouraging him to say more.
"Creation's not an exact science," He shrugged, "It's full of fuck ups."
"I de-fuck the fuck ups." He said, a smile returning to his face.
He leaned back a little and spread his hands wide on the table, well into the other man's seat space, who grumbled and edged away, to the far side of his chair.
"This." He whispered, eyes flicking to his left, "Is a fuck up."
"Is he?" She whispered back, then looked at the middle aged man, hair greying, skin sagging, in the clothes of a country gent, he looked completely benign.
"Really?" She said, looking back and forth between the two men.
The man in the black suit became serious, perhaps a little cross with her, he reached over the table and untangled a hand from her crossed arms.
"Some spoilers." He said softly.

She felt them inside her, their presence, she heard them crying and pleading, felt their agonies and terror, saw the middle aged mans face staring down, impassive, and how terribly alone they felt near their end. They had trusted him and he had brought them violation and death. It was fleeting, barely a second, but it was more than enough, the vision had shaken her to her core. Her face was ashen, lips pressed tightly together, she trembled as tears rolled from her eyes. He brought his other hand up to the side of her face, and held it gently.
"It's ok." He said, "It's really is ok."
"It works out for them, they're where they aught to be, they'll never be alone again."
Anger was flowing into the emptiness inside her.
"What about him?" She spat, wetly.
"Eternal damnation." He said warmly, his glorious smiled breaking out all over his face.
"What?" The middle aged man squawked and rose in his chair making to climb across the table.
"Sit the fuck down, and shut the fuck up, I'm busy."
The middle aged man tried to speak but his words became a gurgling noise in his throat, his body spasmed and he fell back into his seat, hands clawing at his neck, eyes bulging.
"Now, where was I?" He said.
"Eternal damnation?" She said, sounding brighter.
"I could show you some of that, as well, if you want, but it could take you a fuck of a long time to get over it."
"I'll pass on that, if you don't mind," She nodded slowly.
The middle aged man was turning blue, slumping down in his chair, a weak rasping sound bubbling in his open mouth.
"Oops!" Said the Man in the black suit.
A moment later the middle aged man gasped, and began hauling air back into is empty lungs.