Cid looks up from his Valentines with a lopsided smirk. He hadn’t noticed the other passenger, somehow. He stands, clearly drunk, though he seems to never miss a step. He’s light on his feet and sure-footed, certainly. He comes over with abundant confidence, though that’s impossible to tell if he just had already.

He sits down next to the other man- even if he’s on the aisle seat, he’ll just sort of swing his ass over his lap to land. Otherwise, he’ll throw an arm around his shoulders.

“Darling fellow- Well! Aren’t you the charmer?” There’s beer on his breath and smoke on his clothes. “When did you get here, eh? Fancied yourself a little ride on this- what’d they call it… Trolley. Right, yes.”