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The morning saw the sun rise higher and higher into the sky on Sodor, and Gordon, pistons pounding with determination, would see to it that he got to Vicarstown before mid-day. Granted, things hadn't been the same since Pip and Emma took over his top link express duties. Although he had long since come to terms with that times had changed, it DID feel like he had gone into a form of semi-retirement, he supposed it was just odd not being the best of the best anymore. He was making good time, the warm rails clattered under his wheels as he glided effortlessly on the approach to Elsbridge, he would normally just coast into the station gracefully, wait for around 5 minutes or so then Thomas would come scampering in with his coaches and the two would exchange news, if there was any.

Needless to say Gordon was somewhat surprised to see Clarabel as he turned the corner into the station, Thomas had gotten here early? AND turned around in the process? Was he getting quicker or was he getting slower? Ah well, another question on the list. "Good morning little Tho-" Gordon's booming voice quickly collapsed as quickly as he discovered that the engine in front of Annie and Clarabel WASN'T Thomas. It WAS a tank engine, no denying that, but to him, it looked oddly proportioned, it's tanks were short, it's bunker looked as if someone had placed a giant doorstop on the back, it's dome was perhaps the biggest he had ever seen on a tank engine, usually those kind were reserved for bigger engine, but even then... Its funnel... and he thought Stepney had a tall funnel... and finally, as he came to a stop alongside it, the engine carried a rather bewildered expression on her face, she looked at Gordon like he was some great big looming threat, the second the two engines made eye contact, Gordon could've sworn the engine nearly jumped out of her axleboxes she quickly looked the other way, a tint of red coming across her cheeks. Gordon just simply raised an eyebrow, the red faced tank engine just remained silent, she thought the big blue engine was eyeing her up with suspicion, when infact, Gordon was more puzzled than anything else. There was an uncomfortable pause. Gordon cleared his throat and tried again.

"Greetings little one" He boomed, the little engine winced a little, somehow trying to shuffle away from him, even though she couldn't move side ways. "My name is Gordon" he tried again, but a bit softer... heck, 3 times the charm. In all honesty, Gordon was taken a bit aback, it had been so long since he last saw a tank engine intimidated by him, the last time it happened, which gave him this sense of superiority over smaller engines was when he was first built, even then he could remember the nervous looking works shunter as it dragged him out of Doncaster works. But best not focus back then. "I'm the express engine of the railway, what is your name?"

The engine glanced back towards him, those eyes still looking nervous and shaky, it was clear as the sun shone that she was very uncomfortable with the situation. The little engine took a hard swallow and stammered.

"M-M-my n-name ees-" her stammered attempt to communicate was cut completely by the guards whistle sounding loud and long from the rear of Gordon's train. Gordon couldn't pin it, but there was something odd about how the engine spoke, but he only had a few seconds as he had whistled.

"Terribly sorry little one!" He boomed over his pistons pounding as the train went into motion again "Timetables to keep, I'm sure you understand, its not often Thomas' passenger train gets here before me, driver's cap off to you!" he whistled once again, as the last coach accelerated and was out of sight. All was until all was quiet... safe for Gordon's rapid pounding of pistons in the distance.

656 just sat there, dumbfounded. Well that could've gone better, there was no ridiculing over the fact she wasn't British. But that thought was derailed off her mind when another thought slammed into her funnel.

"Vait... Who ees... Taw..mas?..." she said aloud to no one in particular. But her guard's whistle blew and with a relieved sigh, she pulled the two coaches away, with... Knatford Junction?... Was it? In mind.

Holy fuck I haven't had the motivation to do anything as of late <________> But still I'm happy to have done this, I had done the inking a while ago, but never bothered to get the colouring done <__>. Still, not exactly pleased with how I wrote this. Not sure at all if Gordon's character is matched at all in this little story here. Ah well, next stop is Knatford Harbour (or Knatford junction as its known in the RWS) What sort of hyjinks and what nots will occur? Who knows? I sure as hell don't

Till the next time guys

Joe the joj

Description
The morning saw the sun rise higher and higher into the sky on Sodor, and Gordon, pistons pounding with determination, would see to it that he got to Vicarstown before mid-day. Granted, things hadn't been the same since Pip and Emma took over his top link express duties. Although he had long since come to terms with that times had changed, it DID feel like he had gone into a form of semi-retirement, he supposed it was just odd not being the best of the best anymore. He was making good time, the warm rails clattered under his wheels as he glided effortlessly on the approach to Elsbridge, he would normally just coast into the station gracefully, wait for around 5 minutes or so then Thomas would come scampering in with his coaches and the two would exchange news, if there was any.

Needless to say Gordon was somewhat surprised to see Clarabel as he turned the corner into the station, Thomas had gotten here early? AND turned around in the process? Was he getting quicker or was he getting slower? Ah well, another question on the list. "Good morning little Tho-" Gordon's booming voice quickly collapsed as quickly as he discovered that the engine in front of Annie and Clarabel WASN'T Thomas. It WAS a tank engine, no denying that, but to him, it looked oddly proportioned, it's tanks were short, it's bunker looked as if someone had placed a giant doorstop on the back, it's dome was perhaps the biggest he had ever seen on a tank engine, usually those kind were reserved for bigger engine, but even then... Its funnel... and he thought Stepney had a tall funnel... and finally, as he came to a stop alongside it, the engine carried a rather bewildered expression on her face, she looked at Gordon like he was some great big looming threat, the second the two engines made eye contact, Gordon could've sworn the engine nearly jumped out of her axleboxes she quickly looked the other way, a tint of red coming across her cheeks. Gordon just simply raised an eyebrow, the red faced tank engine just remained silent, she thought the big blue engine was eyeing her up with suspicion, when infact, Gordon was more puzzled than anything else. There was an uncomfortable pause. Gordon cleared his throat and tried again.

"Greetings little one" He boomed, the little engine winced a little, somehow trying to shuffle away from him, even though she couldn't move side ways. "My name is Gordon" he tried again, but a bit softer... heck, 3 times the charm. In all honesty, Gordon was taken a bit aback, it had been so long since he last saw a tank engine intimidated by him, the last time it happened, which gave him this sense of superiority over smaller engines was when he was first built, even then he could remember the nervous looking works shunter as it dragged him out of Doncaster works. But best not focus back then. "I'm the express engine of the railway, what is your name?"

The engine glanced back towards him, those eyes still looking nervous and shaky, it was clear as the sun shone that she was very uncomfortable with the situation. The little engine took a hard swallow and stammered.

"M-M-my n-name ees-" her stammered attempt to communicate was cut completely by the guards whistle sounding loud and long from the rear of Gordon's train. Gordon couldn't pin it, but there was something odd about how the engine spoke, but he only had a few seconds as he had whistled.

"Terribly sorry little one!" He boomed over his pistons pounding as the train went into motion again "Timetables to keep, I'm sure you understand, its not often Thomas' passenger train gets here before me, driver's cap off to you!" he whistled once again, as the last coach accelerated and was out of sight. All was until all was quiet... safe for Gordon's rapid pounding of pistons in the distance.

656 just sat there, dumbfounded. Well that could've gone better, there was no ridiculing over the fact she wasn't British. But that thought was derailed off her mind when another thought slammed into her funnel.

"Vait... Who ees... Taw..mas?..." she said aloud to no one in particular. But her guard's whistle blew and with a relieved sigh, she pulled the two coaches away, with... Knatford Junction?... Was it? In mind.

Holy fuck I haven't had the motivation to do anything as of late <________> But still I'm happy to have done this, I had done the inking a while ago, but never bothered to get the colouring done <__>. Still, not exactly pleased with how I wrote this. Not sure at all if Gordon's character is matched at all in this little story here. Ah well, next stop is Knatford Harbour (or Knatford junction as its known in the RWS) What sort of hyjinks and what nots will occur? Who knows? I sure as hell don't

Till the next time guys

Joe the joj