#verse; untitled (Dalton & Bailey)

[normallyxstrange]

@feral-alchemy​ gets a plotted thing with Dalton

     The theater smelled like all the others he’d ever visited--semi-burnt popcorn, sugary sweetness from soda and candy, sweat and B.O. from countless people who’d sat in these chairs before him. Dalton tried to tune out the odors and sank further down into his seat, head ducked down slightly. 

     The movie was loud--theaters always were--but the noise was a comfort. He’d spent too long this time in solitude. Not yet ready to be around people, but no longer wanting to be entirely alone, he’d sought out this place. Easy enough to sneak in, find a quiet place near the back, sink down into the seat and try to focus on something else besides his thoughts for a while.

     And for the first half of the movie--some action flick with gunfights and very little plot--it had gone okay. But then he caught the scent of something acrid and heavy. For a minute, he thought of burnt popcorn before he realized it was smoke.

     The alarm went off a bare second after his realization--loud, piercing. He winced, immediately covering his ears. Bewildered movie-goers rose from their seats, covering their ears too. They weren’t werewolves though. Their ears weren’t sensitive to the high-pitched, constant screech like his were. The lights came up. Bodies filed toward the exits, heading to the lobby, heading for the fire-doors. 

     It started in his chest, somewhere beneath his racing heart. It pushed against his lungs. He couldn’t breath. His skin was too tight. He had to get out of here. He had to move.

     But he couldn’t. He sat in his seat, hunched over, hands over his ears, elbows locking his head into place.

     No, no. Not now. Not this. It’s too much. I can’t--

    People filed past him down the aisles. He could feel them, bodies far too close to him despite the several feet of distance between his seat and the aisle. The fierce alarm rattled his head and his nerves. The people pressed in on him. The smell of smoke was thicker now. And the wolf--oh gods, the wolf--writhed and snapped beneath his skin.

     Move. Go now. Run for the door. Get out!

     Dalton stood, movements leaden and sluggish, hands still pressed to his head. He took one step, then another, and the pain struck him first in the abdomen. It always hurt worse when the shift came suddenly, unbidden, as it did now. He cried out and the sound was more animal than human, all pain and fear.

     Oh. Oh, he couldn’t stop it this time. He couldn’t get away. No. No!