If she doesn't think he's taken note of her antsiness, she's completely mad -- though honestly, it's unlikely Charlie's attributed it to anything other than travel jitters. Being stuck in a cramped train car with god knows how many other people for a number of hours, would make anyone want to stretch their legs. She could probably take ten trips up and down the aisle before he started to question her motives, particularly as the farther along they get the more steadily he stares at the seatback in front of him while trying not to compulsively check his watch. The train line is almost guaranteed to arrive within fifteen minutes of the expected destination time. That means he has just an hour and forty minutes on the outside before he can--

He starts slightly when she speaks, hauled out of his masochistic number crunching. For a moment he just looks at her sideways. Then he bristles: shoulders coming up and hands gripping defensively at the arms of his seat. Not because he gives a shit about the window seat, but because she's on her feet and almost definitely reaching for his duffel.

"Maybe because you'd have to crawl over me every time you wanted to wander about."