#what’s that I hear… brakeman till in a dress?

[missaudreystiara]

WIP ask: dress

"At least I can get out of this fucking dress," Till chuckled.

[gradinar11]

There was a little alley in San Francisco back of the Southern Pacific station at Third and Townsend in redbrick of drowsy lazy afternoons with everybody at work in offices in the air you feel the impending rush of their commuter frenzy as soon they’ll be charging en masse from Market and Sansome buildings on foot and in buses and all well-dressed thru workingman Frisco of Walkup ?? truck drivers and even the poor grime-bemarked Third Street of lost bums even Negros so hopeless and long left East and meanings of responsibility and try that now all they do is stand there spitting in the broken glass sometimes fifty in one afternoon against one wall at Third and Howard and here’s all these Millbrae and San Carlos neat-necktied producers and commuters of America and Steel civilization rushing by with San Francisco Chronicles and green Call-Bulletins not even enough time to be disdainful, they’ve got to catch 130, 132, 134, 136 all the way up to 146 till the time of evening supper in homes of the railroad earth when high in the sky the magic stars ride above the following hotshot freight trains--it’s all in California, it’s all a sea, I swim out of it in afternoons of sun hot meditation in my jeans with head on handkerchief on brakeman’s lantern or (if not working) on book, I look up at blue sky of perfect lostpurity and feel the warp of wood of old America beneath me and I* have insane conversations with Negroes in second*-story windows above and everything is pouring in, the switching moves of boxcars in that little alley which is so much like the alleys of Lowell and I hear far off in the sense of coming night that engine calling our mountains.

But it was that beautiful cut of clouds I could always see above the little S.P. alley, puffs floating by from Oakland or the Gate of Marin to the north or San Jose south, the clarity of Cal to break your heart. It was the fantastic drowse and drum hum of lum mum afternoon nathin’ to do, ole Frisco with end of land sadness--the people--the alley full of trucks and cars of businesses nearabouts and nobody knew or far from cared who I was all my life three thousand five hundred miles from birth-O opened up and at last belonged to me in Great America.

Now it's night in Third Street the keen little neons and also yellow bulblights of impossible-to-believe flops with dark ruined shadows moving back of tom yellow shades like a degenerate China with no money-the cats in Annie's Alley, the flop comes on, moans, rolls, the street is loaded with darkness. Blue sky above with stars hanging high over old hotel roofs and blowers of hotels moaning out dusts of interior, the grime inside the word in mouths falling out tooth by tooth, the reading rooms tick tock bigclock with creak chair and slantboards and old faces looking up over rimless spectacles bought in some West Virginia or Florida or Liverpool England pawnshop long before I was born and across rains they've come to the end of the land sadness end of the world gladness all you San Franciscos will have to fall eventually and burn again. But I'm walking and one night a bum fell into the hole of the construction job where they're tearing a sewer by day the husky Pacific & Electric youths in torn jeans who work there often I think of going up to some of 'em like say blond ones with wild hair and tom shirts and say "You oughta apply for the railroad it's much easier work you don't stand around the street all day and you get much more pay" but this bum fell in the hole you saw his foot stick out, a British MG also driven by some eccentric once backed into the hole and as I came home from a long Saturday afternoon local to Hollister out of San Jose miles away across verdurous fields of prune and juice joy here's this British MG backed and legs up wheels up into a pit and bums and cops standing around right outside the coffee shop-it was the way they fenced it but he never had the nerve to do it due to the fact that he had no money and nowhere to go and O his father was dead and O his mother was dead and O his sister was dead and O his whereabout was dead was dead but and then at that time also I lay in my room on long Saturday afternoons listening to Jumpin' George with my fifth of tokay no tea and just under the sheets laughed to hear the crazy music "Mama, he treats your daughter mean," Mama, Papa, and don't you come in here I'll kill you etc. getting high by myself in room glooms and all wondrous knowing about the Negro the essential American out there always finding his solace his meaning in the fellaheen street and not in abstract morality and even when he has a church you see the pastor out front bowing to the ladies on the make you hear his great vibrant voice on the sunny Sunday afternoon sidewalk full of sexual vibratos saying "Why yes Mam but de gospel do say that man was born of woman's womb-" and no and so by that time I come crawling out of my warmsack and hit the street when I see the railroad ain't gonna call me till 5 AM Sunday morn probably for a local out of Bay Shore in fact always for a local out of Bay Shore and I go to the wailbar of all the wildbars in the world the one and only Third-and-Howard and there I go in and drink with the madmen and if I get drunk I git.

The whore who come up to me in there the night I was there with Al Buckle and said to me "You wanta play with me tonight Jim, and?" and I didn't think I had enough money and later told this to Charley Low and he laughed and said "How do you know she wanted money always take the chance that she might be out just for love or just out for love you know what I mean man don't be a sucker." She was a goodlooking doll and said "How would you like to oolyakoo with me mon?" and I stood there like a jerk and in fact bought drink got drink drunk that night and in the 299 Club I was hit by the proprietor the band breaking up the fight before I had a chance to decide to hit him back which I didn't do and out on the street I tried to rush back in but they had locked the door and were looking at me thru the forbidden glass in the door with faces like undersea––I should have played with her shurrouruuruuruuruuruuruurkdiei.

[missaudreystiara]

#20 Audrey/Till

Thank you for the prompt! This is set around S1 E2 - there was a scene which I’m now obsessed with where Bess expressed that she was disappointed about how her night car experience hadn’t gone the same way Layton’s had with Zarah… and basically I now find that moment quite funny in the light of brakenight becoming canon! So yeah, I wrote this mini fic based on the idea that Audrey had overheard Bess’s comments in this scene. I hope you enjoy it! 🖤❄️

20 - Things you said that I wasn’t meant to hear

Audrey was back stage in her dressing room, touching up her hair and make up and making a few last minute changes to her set list for the evening. She took a sip of tea and let out a sigh of content - it had already been an eventful day in the Night Car. Brakeman Bess Till had brought Wilford’s new Train Detective in to question her and some of the other bar staff about Nikki and Audrey was hopeful that justice for her friend was finally in sight - that third class passengers might finally be getting a voice on this damn train.

Her thoughts quickly strayed to a conversation she’d overheard earlier between the brakeman and the detective, and she smiled to herself. She’d arranged for Zarah and Layton to have some time alone together in one of the Night Car’s private rooms and had noticed Bess banging on the door after she’d evidently deemed they’d had enough time together:

“Time’s up” Bess had called as she opened the door.

“Uh-huh. Not what my night car trip looked like… unfortunately” She had sounded disappointed.

“You were supposed to be getting context on Nikki. That’s called taking a mile” she’d directed at Layton.

“Sometimes detective work requires a personal touch” he’d smirked as he emerged from the private room, pulling down his t-shirt and fixing his hair.

Interesting… Audrey had thought to herself. Given Zarah’s history with Layton, it wasn’t difficult to work out what Bess had walked in on when she interrupted the pair. Did that mean Bess had been hoping that her own Night Car experience could have ended in a slightly less… professional manner than it had? It could explain why she had been so reserved during the process, though it wasn’t uncommon for passengers to be reluctant to open up fully. Either way, Audrey was determined to find out.

With a last check in the mirror, Audrey headed back out in to the main body of the Night Car. She spotted Bess quickly, sat alone on a stool up close by the bar, an old fashioned in hand. It wasn’t often that the brakeman was seen alone in the bar - she was very well liked be her colleagues and it was rare to see her without a pack of her fellow officers in tow. Taking this as a sign, Audrey decided to strike while the iron was hot.

“Enjoying your drink?” Audrey asked, smiling innocently as she approached the brakeman.

Bess raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” she answered.

“Are you sure Bess? Are you sure it’s not disappointing, not quite what you were hoping for?” Audrey smiled wider.

Intrigued, Bess set her drink down and leaned back on her stool, crossing her arms in front of her. “Where are you going with this Audrey? You know that your staff mix the best drinks on the train, so what’s this about?”

“Or perhaps if it’s not the drinks, then maybe it’s the music? Would you prefer it if I changed up my songs a little bit more regularly?” Audrey asked with faux concern.

Bess sighed now. “Seriously Audrey, what’s going on?”

“Oh it’s nothing” Audrey shrugged. “I just thought that perhaps you hadn’t been, shall we say, completely satisfied with your experience in the Night Car so far” her voice heavy with innuendo.

Bess froze. Panic flooded her eyes and her cheeks were rapidly growing pink. “I err — I don’t know what you’re talking about” she replied, unconvincingly.

“Oh, I think you do Bess” Audrey smiled, a twinkle in her eyes.

Bess grimaced and ran a hand through her fringe. “You err, you heard what I said — to Layton?”

“I did”. Audrey continued to smile. “But I’m curious, what exactly was it that you found so disappointing about how your Night Car trip ended?” She asked, leaning over the bar and towards the brakeman.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Bess replied quietly, not quite able to meet the brunette’s eyes.

“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea. But I’d hate to leave you feeling disappointed again, so perhaps you can tell me just to be sure?” Audrey reached out her hand to gently tilt Bess’s face up towards her, encouraging eye contact.

Bess’s blush deepened as she looked in to Audrey’s eyes. Not a trace of her earlier playful humour - was she really suggesting what Bess thought she was? She remained silent.

Audrey held her gaze for a few moments longer. “Well, if you don’t want to tell me” she raised an eyebrow suggestively, “perhaps you’d like to show me?” she asked as she walked away from the bar to one of the private rooms.

Still a little shocked by the turn their conversation had taken, Bess chuckled to herself nervously, downed the remainder of her drink and quickly went to join her. She didn’t need to be asked twice.

The end!

I haven’t written a Snowpiercer fic before and I’ve not written any fic at all in a reaaallllyyy long time, so any feedback would be very much appreciated!