The Travellers

We were sat opposite each other, bumping softly in a cosy little train carriage. On our way to a small town called Mysthalerè, an hour out of Paris. My companion sat, cheek squashed up on the heel of her palm, watching the outside speed past. It looked almost like someone had wiped a hand across a freshly painted canvas and smudged everything all into one. 
I on the other side, was nose deep in my notebook jotting away. Little did she, that sat opposite know what I was scribbling about. She chirped up, pulling her gaze from the window and sighed, "What is it, that you're actually writing anyway?". With my eyes still fixed upon the page and my pen still gliding across the paper, my mouth upturned into a smirk and I chuckled "you!". Just then I stamped a distinct full stop against the page and looked up. To my amusement her arms were folded, and her eyes scowled humorously "me?". She questioned lightly, she paused for a moment before continuing again "better make it good then!" She grinned. I raised an eye, tapping my pursed lips with my visibly chewed up pen. "Just you wait" I gave a mischievous smirk and bowed my head back into my notebook once more.