( for his part, he follows along inside the booth easily enough, taking the seat on the opposite bench and letting his tail fall out sideways from the whole affair. the tip twitches, metronomic like a cat's rather than the wag of a dog's, and he blinks, listening to the ball of a person curled around himself on the other side.

one guess: it relates now to someone who doesn't know being on board, who could find it knowledge to react to. in other words, someone idia knows from his world, only not from his world, since none of them share worlds. still, realities can be consistent enough... even he is the largest outlier in all those he's met who he recognises. which is weird. really weird. really beyond his control, too. )

What, about being part of a secret organisation, its destined heir, set on cleaning up magical messes and energies and whatever monsters it creates and erasing yourselves and those incidents from memory? Or was it about the other things.

( ... it could be, what's he to say, maybe it's about the being forever alone and forever forgotten.

but also, who is to say he recalled correctly, he was all sad then he was angry for weeks because he was shunted off train and forced to go through all that shit without ever having a choice. again. fate is one thing: fickle technology is just messed up. )