Monday, July 28th, 2076
Al figured the room was nice enough. The windows had been permanently locked, a pet peeve he'd rectify as soon as he had a free minute. There was no bathtub, but he hadn't used one in years anyway, so he didn't figure he'd miss it. And while the bed might be a bit short for some, it would be no problem for him.
He explored the first-class car with Alyce, which was fun. The train was actually almost all sleepers, since this was essentially a cruise on rails, but from the materials he'd glanced at, the cars farther back were rather less extravagant. Of course, their operating cost was still probably about fifty or sixty percent of the luxury cabins, even though the luxury ones cost roughly four times as much. And going up to the observation deck confirmed what the extra mark-up bought - exclusivity.
He didn't know the names for all the fabrics these people were wearing, but they screamed money. Even the tech some of the apparel integrated looked like stuff he hadn't read about yet. The women all looked under thirty - so they were natural and bought, or bought unnatural. Hell, the men all looked pretty damned vital for their ages. They all talked like they'd gone to one of those fancy boarding schools, like the archetypical British aristocracy always did in movies. Al liked that, thought it sounded cool. They always acted completely calm and off-hand about the most terrible catastrophes, while getting visibly worked up over trivialities.
Al, of course, looked better than any of them. While it has been a couple of months since he'd taken his knife to his sandy blond hair, he figured it had a sort of windswept look that suited him well. The nose at the center of his weather-beaten face had clearly been broken several times, and his hygiene was conscientious, having partially shaved last Wednesday. His clothes were not expensive, of course, but they bespoke thrift and elegance - they served him well, and in fact were the same ones in which he'd passed out on the beer-sticky floor of his Caravaner last night, leaving his yellowing T-shirt flecked with black dog hairs. He was aware that his antique jacket was fabulously expensive in theory, but it was currently in such a dilapidated state that it didn't detract from his overall look.
And to top off his dashing appearance, he was standing next to Alyce. In her two-inch heels she was five inches taller than he was, which he found majestic. Everyone was looking at her, and yeah, that was partly because of her tits, but he knew from experience that she got just as many looks when dressed more....well, when dressed more.
Although he'd sort of seen himself mostly sitting in his room, eating, drinking, playing cards, and looking out the window most of the time, it was clear this was liable to turn at least partly into a social thing. He shrugged inwardly at that - these folks seemed decent enough, even if given to a certain degree of frippery, and clearly not as clever as they thought they were. But he made a mental note that if he wanted to really relax he'd have to avoid high class gatherings in the future, as Alyce apparently knew half the wealthy people in England (of which she had slept with a fair percentage).
Maybe a nice monster truck rally next time.
For now though, he figured it'd be an okay three weeks.