She brushes her knuckles down his front in a soothing manner, her face creased with her smile. Her hand is covered in a soft, white hand warmer that covers everything except her fingers from the second knuckle up. He wears heavy work boots and both his feet are pointed directly at her. One hand is holding onto the rail directly overhead, his other on the bar to his side. His brown leather jacket hangs open and partially obscures her hand as she runs it from his diaphragm to his belt and then repeats.

He smiles softly back down at her, swaying into her space and her into his with the motion of the train. Sometimes he lets one hand hang free at his side and will unconsciously reach for her, his hand hovering near her elbow, waist or hip for a moment before returning to his side. At one point he leans in and presses a kiss to her forehead, both of them closing their eyes for a moment, her hand resting on his waist, hidden by his jacket.

The train slows to a stop and the people beside them vacate their seats. She drops her hands to his hips and guides him around to the bench. He sits down, legs spread wide, her standing between his knees and for a moment it looks as though she might climb into his lap, but then she tugs him back up and, laughing, they exit the train.