Social situations of any sort are certainly not things Xehanort is keen on. Now, or ever ... and yet he's turned up at some indeterminate point in standard issue orange team gear and commandeered a couple cusions to locate a spot against a wall and settle there. The choice of wall is less to avoid and more to simply have something to lean against; the weariness had yet to fade and nightmares and strange dreams were par the course but the promise of something to aid in relaxing couldn't be ignored. Even he has limits, and he's long since reached them.

It looks like he'd intended to try to do some work while here, with a tablet balanced on one knee and a notebook on the other, a single sentence transcribed from paper to digital before no further lines have been managed. Instead there's a series of meandering doodles, mostly of other people sitting around in the car. They're .. not that bad. Recognizable at least, and immediately so, but done in a slow and meandering sort of way that has done nothing at all for precision. Some aren't of the train, but things distantly recalled from Jinnjar. A couple especially iconic heros. A house, a rough scribble that might be a path through a park.

One of the doodles is a bucket with a mug beside it.

Xehanort does not have his own mug; sweets simply aren't his thing. Work is - and work is getting nowhere, only absent half-focus doodles.