The weather's the same as it always is on this blasted train: void, void, and more void. [Waver said that offhand, only halfway paying attention; while the reflective silver girl was sweeping, he dropped a neatly folded sheet on the nearest bed with the hand not holding a black cane.]

Why do y- [Then he looked up; at Emporio, then over at Weather Report in obvious surprise and a little apprehension.]

...Hello. C-can I help, uh...either of you?