They passed each other like a pair of animals pacing their cage, equally restless and stalking the length of the train like opposing currents. While Cayde's energy crackled with frustrated boredom and he threw himself against the window, though, Tony fizzed with a dark-eyed hunger, like very surface of the train was a window between his teeth and an innocently chirping bird. It wasn't sustainable, of course. It was inevitable that, at some point, Tony would drop to his knees where he thought he could feel the tone of the rumbling wheels change, an extra weight of gears of breaks to more closely examine, and call a sharp-edged facet of his armor from the brick it had been compressed into in the bag tucked under his seat with a beckoning flick of his finger. It wasn't like the carpet was in particularly good repair. Tony could probably tear it up with his fingernails if he was particularly intent on it.