Social anxiety:

Dictionary definition:

Knowing that there is something you should be doing/saying, but not able to quite muster it.

Example:

You are at a birthday party, and you want to wish the birthday recipient a happy birthday. The music is playing loudly, so you hang around and you say “Happy birthday”. But they don’t hear you, and they say “What?”

So you say, louder “Happy Birthday!”

And they still can’t hear you over the driving solo. “What?” they say.

So you yell, but because you were so focused on being loud, your tongue gets confused and says “Bappy Hirthday!” instead. It would have been fine, but that sick instrumental piece just finished, so the room is totally quiet, and you have just yelled that on the top of your lungs.

So…

Yeah.

Yu Lin wasn’t here yet.

“Did she get lost in the steam?” I asked.

Hawthorne glared at me. “She’s rated 4 brits.” He pointed to his tie, which had some little chevrons on the bottom. If each chevron was a brit, he only had 3.

The train conductor guy was coming closer.

“Why do you need to be on a train?” I was breaking all kinds of safety rules, “Aren’t there…” please be similar jargon here “Deputy Constable stations or places nearby?”

Hawthorn glared at me. He was really good at glaring. “They are called Yards. There are certain matters that are better handled by going to Central Yard.” He said, extra Bristishly.

Just call it Scotland Yard and be done with it. “And…samurai guy is…”

“The Sects have certain privileges in the Cities, but the Superintendent at Central Yard can supersede many of those privileges.”

I had a feeling I was arrested as a lucky shield.

I just wanted to study for my exam tomorrow.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I had a terrible idea that I was going to miss it.

Oh, my GPA hurt just thinking about the shame and horror of it.

How do I cross back into the universe sea? Was it a cosmic mistake? Was this destiny? Or did Godzilla burp and shook loose the fabric of Space-Time and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“The Sect’s man is dangerous, miss.” Hawthorn said. “Yu Lin is the only one who could face him. But she gets pinned in this region…We need to get to Central.”

The Conductor started to move to the door Hawthorn was occupying.

Hawthorn looked pained.

“I think you both need to step outside of the train.” The ticket guy said.

“Deputy Constable Hawthorn.” Said Deputy Constable Hawthorn, coldly. “I am one official business to Central Yard.”

“The Hound of Waipao thinks differently, and that makes my Masters concerned.” Then he showed a little sigil thing, some kind of symbol that fancied itself art engraved on a piece of jade. I did not like the gleam in his eyes.

Hawthorn said a no no word again “Bloody Ikes.” He said, not caring about being coarse. “You work for Shen Ziaotong.” It may have been the guys name, or another curse word. “Sect life not as good these days, eh? Not paying the bills so you had to take a second job as a train conductor?”

Well, that was insult. I wanted in on the action. (Sometimes, I realize that my survival instincts take little naps and leave me by myself)

While Hawthorn and Yu Lin looked like steam-punk cops, this guy looked like the guy who sells you a dozen donuts, but only gives you nine. “I am Fan Song, 28th disciple. My Master sent me to observe and collect what I thought may be relevant to current matters. Both you and your partner have been acting suspiciously. And this little red flower behind you is even more strange.” He said the little red flower bit in a really creepy way.

Yep. I was staying with Hawthorn. This new guy was not a good person. He gave off that greasy feeling you get around people who kick puppies.

And did he just call me strange? I mean, I was wearing a bathrobe surrounded by people dressed to nines, but still. “I’m a person, and not a plant. Maybe you just suck at gardening.” Wow, I insult people like I’m a fifth grader. See, Social anxiety kept me from being rude for years, and now I was behind on the insult game.

Fan Song wrinkled his nose. Maybe insults didn’t translate here.

“The little flower has some fire in her. Master will be interested. Stand aside, lawman.”

“I’m on official duty.” Hawthorn said, standing in front of me. “You can’t have her.”

The train did a little roll thing underfoot, as there were hisses and squeals of the engine heating and the brakes being released (probably).

Fan Song snorted, and did some kind of Narruto hand thing.

I wanted to laugh at him, but then something weird happened. From the probably fake train conductor, a focused ball of something arose. It was kind of like crossing the steam, but focused and pointed.

It slammed into Hawthorn, and pushed him against the wall.

The people on the train look taken aback.

The train started shifting and pulling out of the station.

And I realized, in that moment where my defender slash arresting officer was behind me, that Yu Lin wasn’t going to appear and save the day.

In the stories, this would be the time when the character who we haven’t seen in a minute comes in and saves the day.

But Yu Lin wasn’t there, and greasy donut stealing guy was.

He smirked victoriously at Hawthorn as he reached for me.

So I punched him in the throat.