The spikes of his hair shake as the wind takes them. Sliding to and from the inky black and Greed puts his head to the whip-lash. There's smells here he's familiar with; the burning of coal on the outskirts of town, diesel in the engines just at the cusp. The flavors of shops closing down for the evening, leaving their overnight bakes to rise in packed ovens. These are all familiar and maybe slightly comforting, given the circumstances.

But he's not a creature to sit around and admire the beauty of things.

Instead, he slips over, wedging himself between the edge of the door and the bolt itself. Half-way inside the cart and teetering on the balance of falling straight out onto the rolling hillside below. Greed sneers then, dastardly with the flare of the 'Pit shining through each tooth.

She is quick. "We," Greed says, as he flips an index to the sky and circles it. "-figured that was kind of implied."

She's got her things, has her nap-sack, and Greed knows she'll have the 'Shield as soon as he grabs her. So he does - by the wrist, ensnaring his thumb and index-finger around her bones like that of a make-shift hand-cuff. He jerks a little more lightly though, as to not send her head-over-tiny-heels off the train cart, and gestures to the open spot on his back.

"Get on. Unless you'd rather stay here." The air makes his sunglasses quake and takes his voice out and away with a Doppler's effect. He can hear it in his ears, the way it's hard to make out just exactly what he's saying. But he hopes actions speak louder than words and as the iron-clad wheels below screech and pump, Greed dips a bit lower to give her some leverage at his shoulders.