The attacker cursed under his breath.
"Fuck. Then we have to wait for them. The others already started their part."
Trafalgar and Caelum said nothing.
Both stayed where they were, wearing the masks and clothes of dead men, while the restaurant car sat around them in ruined luxury. Plates lay broken on the floor. Wine had spilled across white tablecloths. Rich passengers slept where they had fallen, their fine clothes wrinkled beneath the slow pulse of the emergency lights.
A few minutes passed.
The attacker grew more impatient with every one of them.
His fingers tapped against the hilt of his curved sword. His head turned twice toward the door behind Trafalgar and Caelum, then toward the next carriage, where the cargo team was probably working.
"Tch." He clicked his tongue and started walking. "I'm going to see what they're doing. They can't be taking this long with one person."
Trafalgar moved with him.
