The man's hand slapped the box, sending it tumbling along the seat towards the edge. Brooke was thrown off her feet, flying for a second, hitting the floor; she reached out, frantically trying to hold onto something as the box received another firm nudge. Suddenly, there was no weight. Just as suddenly, it was back as the box slammed against the floor with a dull thud, upright once again. Brooke's hair was a mess; her shoulder hurt. Badly.

She was breathing heavily; her back was cold with sweat.

- What the fuck...

Above her, the bus seat lurched and creaked, accommodating the new passenger as he made himself comfortable. The box ended up in front of him on the floor; a moment later he threw a leather messenger bag right next to it. She pulled herself up to get a better look through the windows; his bag and legs hid most of the bus from her, and that meant she was probably hidden, too. This was insane. He must have thought someone had forgotten some trash... or packaging... it probably didn't even register with him that someone could actually leave behind a real "LIVE HUMANS" box. So he simply swept it off, took his seat...

How does she even reach him? She looked at the door again, bracing herself: he would probably have to get it open and get outside. Or is it safer to stay? Or, even better, should she immediately use her Minicomm to try and contact 911?

Momentarily paralyzed, she noticed another movement beyond the window as the man settled in. There was his leg; he seemed to be wearing slim dark jeans. She could very faintly hear a man's voice as someone talked on the phone, but she wasn't sure whether that was him or someone else in the vicinity.