Duma looked intesnsely confused at the rattly old train that came into view. It immediately reminded him of the machines he'd seen harvesting pain in Hell, so immediately he braced himself for some kind of horrible experience. He hunched his wings around him as he stepped on, not taking much notice of the currency that Yorda had used.

When it turned out that the train did not have any malicious intentions, nor was it crushingly painful to ride, Duma relaxed slightly and tried to sit down on a human bench without getting his wings in the way. It was awkward, but he managed it.

Now where was he going?

[OOC: No problems, Christmastime tends to do that.]