"The station?" This non-question made possible by Sunny's amazing powers of deduction, looking remarkably small and ordinary where he sits in a casual slouch on his chair, fingers tucked and a tried streak of mud having managed to cling at some blind spot beneath his jaw despite his very best efforts.

Itches it now, though, flakes of dirt beneath his blunt nails. "Okay. Are you going alone?" Also blunt, that question, without particular leading implication with regard to whether Sunny thinks that's unwise or wise or if he's volunteering, even if he probably is.