The crack of morning dawn woke up some of our intrepid travellers. Being the attentive journalist that he is, Edward Carver had more than made use of his time by once again, re-reading the papers from last night. If only there was a more effective way of getting the news...He shook his head, and outlined his plans for the day on a napkin as he planned out how it will go. He'll arrive at the hotel, where he was arranged to stay, and then call in to notify his contacts of his arrival and the meeting should be organised in a matter of days. Perhaps, he thought optimistically, not even a day will pass by before he gets the kinks sorted out.
It was a different matter for people like Professor Endymion Porter, he has been an academic for much of his life, schedules revolved around him, not the other way around, and that's how things should be. He grunted and shuffled a bit. Breakfast is whenever he feels like eating, anyways. He knew that he'll be escorted to a beautiful residence by a Peking University staffer, anyways.
Vivienne Grey woke up as the screeching sound of metal clashing against the rails finally became too deafening for her to bear. You'd have thought that she's used to this by now, but she wasn't. A rude awakening, indeed. Bleary eyed, she at least had the opportunity to examine the beautiful Peking Railway Station as the train lurched into a state of inertia anyways. The building was good. Better than what she had hoped. Anyways. She could almost feel the air on the tips of her fingers as the train pulled to a stop. She started writing down a handwritten note for a servant of hers, Margery, was it? Fancy name.
Doctor Bernard Randall had ignored the party last night. After all, a devout such as he wouldn't partake in acts of temptation close to sin. Excess of food, wine, and indulgence? He shivers to think of anything as close to it. Though he had considered that he could acquaint himself with the other passengers. There's always an opportunity to discuss the lord. What better to serve his God than to promote his ideals? He could start with this train, after all.
Sir James Evelyn Gonville Henderson of Gravesham, 3rd Bart. MC paced within his cabin, impatient. He had an appointment today, and this train needs to arrive on time in order to have him arrive on time. If he couldn't be punctual, who knows what his business partners will think of him? The party last night would've ruined his sleep. After all, what's the point of fraternising with fake socialites that only pretends privilege? He knew that real men of privilege like him don't need to go to parties like these, parties go to them.
'Jack Kenning', had been invited to discuss matters at Peking University, excitement tingled in every part of his body. Yes. Yes. He feels alive. There's things to do, people to meet, and much much more...ah, interesting things to commit. He couldn't wait to step off the train.
Margery Cook was standing on the railway platforms feeling cold, rainy. Pale fluffs of white, tiny droplets of rain had been inconsistently falling down from the sky despite the obvious lack of storm clouds. A cruel joke of fate, she supposes, as she mentally went over how her first meeting will go. It will have to be perfect, nothing short of perfection will be good, obviously. She gulped, her heart beating so fast that she felt like dizzy just from standing. After all, it's not everyday that she gets to welcome an upper-class lady from the other of side o' the world. The pay would be good, and perhaps, even, she might be able to finally change her life around. Her tangle with opium and the horrid dens hadn't been the distant past at all, as much as she had wanted it to be. There's a long road ahead.