[It's been nearly half an hour since the last person passed through from another car, and while Yelena isn't completely absorbed in her book - is never completely absorbed in so public a space, with so many unknown variables - neither is she expecting someone to start pounding on the door. She jerks to her feet, book tumbling from her fingers.
Even with caution slowing her steps - because it can't possibly just be the muffling quality of the door and her own lingering injuries that renders the shouting that accompanies the thud of fists incoherent - it doesn't take her more than perhaps fifteen seconds to reach the door.
So, approximately an eternity.
When she sets her weight against the thing and heaves, the door rockets open as though it had never jammed at all, leaving her blinking in puzzlement at a man she distantly recognizes from the briefing prior to departure. She tilts her head slightly, leaning to the side to check that there isn't, say, something horrible clawing the door to the previous car open before asking mildly:]
Scratchmarks
Even with caution slowing her steps - because it can't possibly just be the muffling quality of the door and her own lingering injuries that renders the shouting that accompanies the thud of fists incoherent - it doesn't take her more than perhaps fifteen seconds to reach the door.
So, approximately an eternity.
When she sets her weight against the thing and heaves, the door rockets open as though it had never jammed at all, leaving her blinking in puzzlement at a man she distantly recognizes from the briefing prior to departure. She tilts her head slightly, leaning to the side to check that there isn't, say, something horrible clawing the door to the previous car open before asking mildly:]
What the fuck?