Decades of living under the stars, his only roof being the trestle above him, and so being inside the train instead of ahead of it had already set him off. The idea of being back closer to home was becoming less and less entertaining the longer this goes on.

Especially now as he finds himself having no way of getting out of this damn train car.

He's tried the handle time and again, assured someone had locked it from the other side. Something like whatever, whoever had left those nails dug into the wood.

And then suddenly the door pops open.

Fist raised, nostrils flaring and his eyes wide enough to show a lot of whites that only highlight the one thing he's no good at shifting, the oblong nature of his pupils.

"Why'd you have the damn door locked?" Demanding to hide the panic he's feeling, his soft Southern vowels all the richer for his fear.