His right hand rests behind his back, index and middle fingers pinched together, thumb hooked against the second knuckle of his ring finger. Three hundred years of holding a Judge's Brush have left him with muscle memory, and even after losing consciousness, his fingers remain poised to pass judgment.
The carriage reeks of disinfectant mixed with rust. The overhead lights flicker every seven seconds. In the brief moments of darkness, the reflection in the window shows twice as many people as there are passengers.
