Startled yet again, Daphne sat straight up, bumping into Jillian. Alarmed she steadied the girl herself while grumbling and adjusting her robes with the excuse of making her look proper. "Ladies should sit with their back straight," she informed her friend before turning her attention elsewhere.

Davis, wherever he was, and if this was his idea of humor, was so going to be pelted with smelling salts.

The conversation between the males was slightly interesting. Something about a sport involving pillows and how the big burly one had fallen and injured his back in the train. Scratching her cheek, Daphne did her best at appearing interested in the subject of smacking each other in the face with pillows.

And how Mister Cale's sex was, at the present time, unverified.

"Well, I...on the train the girls talk a lot in the corridors," she began trying to explain herself, cheeks (and ears hidden by wavy blond hair) turning pink but yet again she was interrupted by the rest of the chatter and left it at that. It was best to seize the opportunities fate handed you.

Fate was telling her to keep quiet and stop inserting her dainty feet into her mouth consecutively. Daphne respected Fate greatly and would heed her commands.

"I don't..." she swept Cale a sideways glance. "I--if he says he's a man..."

His sideburns sure looked manly enough...in a sense.