Robert was standing on the platform, dressed in a railway porter's uniform, while he leaned on a trolley and gazed blankly at the approaching train. This was the one from York, wasn't it? That meant he was only two hours into his shift. Unbelievable...

This work was impossible to bear without the common man's brain that his fellow porters possessed. He was a Carrington. He wasn't made for the dullness, routine, and servitude that the others had been trained in all their lives. Making him do this work was nothing short of torture.

The worst part was that he couldn't even use this wasted time to plot revenge on the man and boy who had put him here. He always had to be ready to answer questions or help travelers with their luggage. Like now. 

"Twats," he muttered under his breath as the train came to a halt. He took his luggage trolley and approached one of the doors, ready to help any commuter with heavy luggage he hoped would crush them when being taken down from the overhead storage.