Antonio’s Sunday night odd encounter(Antonio)
Date: 2025-06-22 01:47
(Antonio’s Sunday night odd encounter(Antonio):Antonio)
[Sun Jun 22 2025]
At Western gate/span
The western gate stands as a formal entrance to the university grounds, its
wrought iron bars set within stone pillars that rise fifteen feet into the
air. The pillars, carved from local granite, bear the university seal and
Latin inscriptions that have grown difficult to read beneath layers of lichen
and weathering. The gate itself remains open during daylight hours, its heavy
bars showing patches of rust where the black paint has chipped away,
particularly near the ornate scrollwork at the top. The paved area
immediately inside the gate widens into a small plaza bordered by low stone
walls, where visitors often pause to consult the campus map mounted on a
weathered wooden board. Old-fashioned globe lights atop the pillars flicker
unreliably after dark, casting uneven pools of illumination that leave the
corners of the entrance in shadow. The temperature here tends to be several
degrees cooler than the surrounding streets, and on foggy mornings, the mist
seems to linger longest around the gate’s ironwork, clinging to the metal
like cobwebs./span
It is night, about 69F(20C) degrees, and there are clear skies. The mist is heaviest At High and Washington/span
There is a waning crescent moon.
(Your target and their allies discover a “haunted” apartment building where tenants are being terrorized by poltergeist activity. Investigation reveals the ghost is actually a psychic child in the building whose powers manifest uncontrollably during nightmares, and the parents are desperately trying to hide their child’s abilities from authorities who might take them away.)
Camille is studying herself in a hand mirror, her observation almost clinicaly assessive. Her expression is practiced, then discarded and practiced again. Her posture is analyzed, and she shifts, and looks at it again in the mirror as best as it will show. After a bit she nibbles at her lip in thought, jotting a few notes down in her journal. The notes mingle a fluid foreign script with some rough-hewn English words or phrases.
It is a cool summer night in New Haven as Camille preens and analyzes her posture and stance and expression to the last minute detail, her focus flitting in between the hand mirror and journal as she attempts to perfect everything about her appearances. It is not long before even she can notice something, however, objects near her vibrating inexplicably, and even moving. She feels one of those same vibrations in the journal in or under her hand, in fact, before it is yanked and thrown at the ground by an invisible force.
Her expression changes from one of intense focus to surprise as the journal first vibrates, causing her pen to scratch a jagged line across the page. The least of her issues though as the journal flies out of her hands. She seems about ready to scream or at the very least yelp, but stops herself, taking a deep breath before turning her gaze across the area. “Hello?” she says in a soft, whispery voice that seems like it might mingle with the breeze.
She approaches the journal, slipping her pen behind Camille’s ear and her hand mirror into her purse.
An answer comes to Camille’s hello in the form of the winds that rise and die down so quickly one might think that it was laughing. She does not seem to see anything out of the ordinary when she looks about, or at least she does not for a few seconds before the entrance to the nearby dorm flings open and crashes into the wall behind it rather loudly, although the force is not enough to damage the door if she happens to be worried about that. Another gust of wind exits the building and threatens to swallow her whole as the unnatural winds barrage past her.
The time for timidness is past, and Camille lets out a piercing scream as one might if being attacked by wild dogs or some other threat that might wander the campus so late at night. “Help, someone!” She calls to the dorms, though even at her loudest the winds might well drown out much of the noise she seeks to make.
In the meantime, before help arrives, Camille tries to find shelter beneath the bows of the largest tree she can find, perhaps not hiding but rather putting it’s mighty trunk between her and the unseen assailant.
Cries of help on Camille’s part go unheard as the howling winds emerging from the dorm drowns them out, but that is just before another one of her plans are ruined by the unseen forces; the wind reverses direction and strengthens up, unseen forces aiding in pushing her into the dorms, always one-upping her in the contest for strength against resilience before she is taken fully into the dorm, the door shutting back closed loudly when she is in. Immediately after that, the lights in the main hallway start flickering, but at least the winds are gone. For now.
Now inside the dorms, Camille turns to the nearest door “Help, please open up?” she calls, pounding on it. “Something is here.” As the lights start to flicker she takes a breath and pulls out her phone.
More softly, she speaks again to those flickering lights “Hello? Please answer, I beseech. I cannot but fret and flounder, and such should grow unduly dully soon. You wish to speak, so your words might be heard, your will heeded, your thoughts entertained. Speak with me?” she urges softly.
A reply comes to Camille’s words this time in the form of a paper cup that one of the students apparently discarded sometime, the crumpled and discarded cup suddenly rising before being flung at her, but the pain one can receive from a literal paper cup is likely questionable. Her latter words seem to prompt something, however, as the metal door to the fire exit suddenly flings open and crashes backwards like the others, likely guiding her in just like the winds guided her into the hallway, which does not look much different except the flickering of the lights and random trash being thrown around by forces unseen, nothing too unusual for a Saturday night.
Perhaps clueless as to how it may work, Camille holds up her phone “You can make text appear on this perhaps?” she suggests until the door crashes open. She regards it with consternation, then gives a slow nod and a reluctant approach. “I will go with you, accompany you, you needn’t fret. You are very frightening, and I would not wish to be harmed.” She explains softly. The sincerity in her words is hard to determine, her voice soft and meek, but without the alarm one might expect from someone panicked.
Ever the thoughtful unseen hand, the forces reply to Camille by taking that pen plucked behind one of her ears and just flicking it upwards the stairs for her to pick up. One of the metal bars supporting the handrails start to bend and creak horribly in the form of a very slow and terrible laugh in response to her words, quite amused or pissed off depending on how one might look at it. As she climbs up the fire exit, the door to the second floor also seems to fling and crash open, again not a person in sight as the lights in the hallway that follow start flickering wildly and excitedly, a fire extinguisher flying past the hallway from where she can see and disappearing at the other end of the doorframe where her vision ends.
A clumsiness becomes evident in the girl, a tremble in her hands, a widening of her eyes. It’s as if she were another person entirely, a girl caught in a horror movie or a perfect replica thereof all at once. She struggles to retrieve the pen in fingers that now shake and fumble, she struggles to climb stairs, slipping twice on the way up, and now Camille’s voice shakes “What do you wish of me?” she asks meekly.
No direct replies find Camille’s ears as she asks the unseen forces what they would like with her. At least not immediately, because when and if she decides to enter the second floor through the fire exit so thoughtfully opened for her, the same fire extinguisher that she saw earlier sails past her, almost hitting her in the process and barely missing. The fire extinguisher flies all the way to the end of the hallway with the force bestowed upon it, loudly crashing onto the bare tile floor and leaving a crack under its weight before the door that it landed right in front of her gently creaks open, beckoning her quietly.
The role taken, Camille adheres to it perfectly, hesitant steps, no attempt to dodge the fire extinguisher but rather a resultant stumble, everything about this girl seems suddenly unimpressive. She creeps towards the opening door as if to muffle the clacking sound of heels on the floor and pushes the door farther open with a shoulder.
Subtly, a strange, ritually carved knife is slipped into her palm, concealed within the folds of her dress as she presses her hand along the outline of her body as if to wipe off sweaty palms.
Fortunately for Camille, the fire extinguisher on the floor remains dormant this time as she approaches the now-open dorm room, the lights flickering even faster this time as she does. Once she shoulder-checks the door, she finds it a rather small, ordinary dorm room, multiple beds with only one occupied this Saturday night. A fair skinned young man clad in pajamas sleeps restively on the bed, constantly tossing, turning and muttering under his breath, sweat beading on his brows and objects in the room vibrating wildly as he does, along with even more flickering of the lights as the lights of the room go live.
Her head tilts as she observes the young man, fingering the knife thoughtfully, then glancing about. The act of clumsiness is maintained as she approaches him, searching for clues as to what this poltergeist may wish from her.
Keeping an eye out for a sign, Camille reaches out to touch the man’s shoulder, preparing to wake him if not stopped.
As Camille approaches the restless young man on the bed and tries to wake the ‘prince’ up, she might hear footsteps in the hallway that she came from after what can be heard as two pairs of hurried footsteps, almost moving in a jog, approach the room that she is in. The fire extinguisher that was flung at the floor in front of the door behind her seems to start wildly shaking again before it is flung down the hallway towards the footsteps a thud is heard, followed by a masculine “Ouw- fuck!! Mother of fucking God…” Which is in turn followed by a woman’s “Stop cursing and get here!” Before a middle-aged duo appears at the door, breathless as the man clutches onto his arm and the woman clutches onto the doorframe to catch her breath, spotting Camille with a dagger, the latter recoils.
Quickly, Camille slips the dagger away just in case it wasn’t spotted. Or at the very least to prove she no longer intends to stab anyone. She glances between the two, and after a moment her gaze focuses on the woman.
Just as before with her hand mirror, Camille appraises her quickly; posture, manner, emotionality, and even speech from her brief commands. And as she does, Camille’s own posture shifts, her manner shifts, and she adopts the emotionality present on the woman’s visage. “Get in here.” she says in a voice eerily reminisicent of the woman. “Stop making noise, or it’ll upset it further.” she commands in the exact tone the woman commanded the man as her posture straightens.
Whatever acting magic Camille might have does not seem to work on the brunette in her mid-forties at worst as she replies in a hiss, “That’s my son, you dolt!”, not seeming quite amiable at the moment as the duo enter the room, the man still clutching at his arm which was probably hit by a certain fire extinguisher. The latter speaks, then, “We came as quickly as we could,” Is his defense, his tone of voice much more friendly than his counterpart’s as the two approach the bed, the woman seeming quite suspicious of Camille judging from the look on her face before the man gently elbows her. She sighs, and reaches into her purse, reaching into it to produce a bottle of water. The duo are then given a bit of a scare as that same fire extinguisher, battered and bruised, crashes into the frame of the door behind them in one last Hail-Mary before spectacularly bursting, entering the room like a rocket before crashing into a wooden cabinet and breaking it before exploding into foam, all of this happening extremely loudly.
Camille looks over to the boy again and back to the woman appraisingly. Then she gives a little nod and steps aside. “His curse summoned me here. Insisted I come. I could not refuse or it would…” she glances pointedly at the man’s arm. “Did you resist? Or does it not want you here?” she asks softly as her attention turns back to the young man on the bed. “He does not sleep well.”
The couple seem to retreat to the corner of the room rather quickly with that fire extinguisher spectacle, but the best of all, the vibrations seem to cease and the flickers seem to stop as the young man stirs awake, seeing Camille first thing in his sleepy, confused vision as he in turn retreats to the corner of his bed, “Who the hell are you?!” He yells, quite panicked and seeming a bit shaken before he spots his parents cowering in the corner, letting out a breath, “What are you all doing here?” He asks as he rights itself, trying to avoid Camille as he steps off the bed, “Nightmares first, you all second…” He complains.
A soft warm smile, probably copied from a counselor forms on Camille’s red painted lips as she bows her head, speaking in soft supplication “Your nightmare awoke a few of your neighbors, and your parents thought to attend to it. THey were called to help. I’m sorry, this sort of thing is quite common here. There is no need to be embarassed.” she says as she subtly slips the knife into her purse behind her back.
“But I think perhaps the nurses office may have some things to help you sleep more soundly. Would you like me to escort you there?” the girl oozes care and concern with a practiced ease.
Awkward pause as the young man approaches his parents who just seem to be regaining their composure after that whole fire extinguisher incident. The man coughs into a hand, and the woman gives his son one of those stares before they all listen to Camille, staring quite a bit with her words. “We know,” The woman says, not seeming all-too-proud of his son’s handiwork as she sighs, briefly placing her face in her hands before the man places a hand of consolation on her shoulder, and another on his son’s, speaking, “It’ll be okay- not the first time,” Are his words of attempted assurance before he turns to speak to Camille, “…thank you for trying to help, but I think we can handle this. It’s not the first time,” He explains, the young man averting his eyes from everyone in embarrassment. The woman then stirs, straightening up even further to address Camille, perhaps a bit threateningly, “I will take care of it, and I will handle the police. You should go now,” She says, not friendly or cooperative as usual.
It’s as if nothing in the night ever happened but this moment “You will handle the police?” she asks softly. Her hands are still behind her back, and surrepticiously she sets her phone to record. Why? One can only imagine as she waits for some distraction to drop the phone to the carpeted portion of the floor and scoot it beneath the bed. For whatever reason, Camille wants to hear this conversation.
With her makeshift ‘bug’ planted, Camille smiles softly to the woman and bows her head, turning her gaze to the young man “You will be fine.” she assures him. “Your parents know what to do.”
And with that, Camille slips towards the door, perhaps plotting to return later that night to collect her phone, after the boy has fallen asleep once more.
The almost-scolding eyes of the brunette track Camille out of the room before she strolls to the door to grab it by the handle, “And good day to you, ma’am,” She says despite it being night before shutting the door in her face if she looks, perhaps expected behavior for her. The family do not seem to immediately discover the phone, but with a woman like that at the helm, who knows? Camille is left alone in the hallway to collect her thoughts and take in the now-normal dorm hallway, then, no more disturbances reaching her.
Camille smiles a bit to herself and turns to go down the hallway, eager to learn of these secrets the woman posesses in dealing with the guards of this place. All manner of imagined methods flutter through the girl’s head and she might whistle the softest of tunes upon her lips on her way back to her dorm room.
Why does she care more about learning how to deal with police than, well, anything else that happened tonight? Probably no reason. Honest.
(Your target and their allies encounter a newly activated supernatural who doesn’t understand what’s happened to them or what’s next.
)
“Well it’s all subconcious isn’t it?” Eloa asks Shiloh softly as she sits next to him. Above them, there’s a loud howl. It sounds rather close actually. Then another that sounds AWFULLY close. Along with the sounds of screams and running out from the street. Frowning, Eloa reaches out automatically to the man infront of her, placing her hand on his shoulder.
Shiloh furrows his brow at Eloa “Admittedly, I don’t know how it works.” He pauses as he hears the howling, exhaling a sigh, “Of course, I’m drunk and forgot my weapon.” He naturally stands and moves in front of Eloa regardless.
There is more howling. More screaming. And then the sound of someone running through the door. Metal clangs and pings as it sounds like racks of clothing are being thrown over and Eloa huddles behind of Shiloh, her gaze drawn to the entrance. Suddenly, there’s a dark shadow that blots out of the light from the store above and a man – a very naked man with brown eyes, brown hair, whose covered in bits of ..what can only be described as shifting jelly stumbles his way down the stairs. He makes it the first few steps, then falls down the rest of the way in a loud heap. “Oh my god what have I done???” He cries out as he lands on his back, gazing up at the cieling.
Behind of Shiloh, Eloa whimpers slightly at the sight, huddling behind of Shiloh.
Shiloh tenses as the clattering grows louder, eyes glued to the entrance to the room as he stands protectively in front of Eloa, he starts to take a step forward before he sees what the source of the commotion was. He immediately relaxes, letting out a soft sigh as the naked man stumbles in, stumbling a bit himself. “You a new awaken?”
“I don’t know man. I just.. I don’t know had a few ta drink you know? And then next thing I know people smell so… soo fucking gooood.” The man on the ground blinks a bit times then sits up. No injures it seems and he looks at the jelly on his hands, “My body felt like all weird and shit. Got real hairy.” He lifts a hand to his hair and in the better light of the basement, Shiloh can see that his hair drenched in blood. “I think I ate something.”
Behind of Shiloh, Eloa was about to step forward until she notices all the blood and instead she bites her lip as she stays behind of the man, “Should I call 911?” She whispers behind Shiloh’s back.
Shiloh stumbles a bit, wavering in place, he shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts as Eloa speaks, his attention turning to her for a moment, “No. You should know we can’t get unawakeneds involved in these things…” He exhales a sigh, he opens his mouth to address the man once again before he nearly loses balance, crashing into the wall, hands lifting to his head “Fuck, I really need to sober up right now.” For now Shiloh is pretty much entirely distracted as he tries to regain his composure.
More howls fill the night air. One would almost think it’s a full moon or something. “Is haven police.” Eloa tells Shiloh in another whisper, “Special police is not?” She asks confused by Shiloh’s words but she sets away her phone, looking at the man as Shiloh manages to stumble into a wall. “Are you okay?” She asks him, reaching out to help as the man at the bottom of the stairs snickers a bit.
“Had a bit to drink have ya mate?” The guy asks in some not particularly clear southern accent. It doesn’t sound like southern america. Just southern. “Well.. I guess that aint gonna help me.” He looks at his hand covered in blood then his eyes dilate a bit as he leans forward to lick the blood as the wolf howls break the night. “Oh man that chick tasted GOOD.”
Shiloh feels the desire to help the man rip… tear… shred into more people.
stabilizes himself as Eloa steps forward, “I just- I got a history with the police okay.” He says before his gaze drags over to the naked man, watching as he licks the blood from his hand “Eloa, get back.” With a labored groan, Shiloh manages to peel himself off the wall, stumbling a bit closer to the naked man, “You need to leave.” He states firmly, though there’s clearly a level of hesitation in his voice, so many desires filling the room, swirling in his head, joining with his already inebriated state. “You’re… Fuck I wish I knew more about werewolves.” He mumbles to himself as he trips over his words trying to explain the state of bloodlust the man appears to be entering.
Whimpering a little, Eloa nods her head and moves back to allow Shiloh to take the stage. She curls her hands too, not immune to the werewolves desire to rip, shred and tear. “Um… upstairs more people..” She tries to suggest after Shiloh’s comment since well. There certainly is more people upstairs for the wolf to rip into if they want to let the wolf just go like that.
The brown haired blood soaked man however, seems to be in no hurry to leave. He licks his hand clean then looks over at Shiloh, “Nah mate aint no werewolf. Just.. really hungry.” He sniffs the air a bit then towards Shiloh, “You smell kindof good. Like a giant jello shot. Shit you think if I eat someone drunk I get drunk?” He starts to laugh ilke he’s a drunk himself. Power drunk.
Shiloh exhales a soft sigh, and it was beginning to seem like tonight was going to be a night of bad decisions. Shiloh had assumed that because the man came in from the stairs, because of the blood and commotion, there wouldn’t be anyone left, but at Eloa’s revelation and the brown haired man’s words, Shiloh makes a decision. Maybe not the best one, but it’s a decision nonetheless. Using his superhuman speed, he launches himself at the brown haired man in an attempt to charge him with his shoulder, though because of his inebriated state it really more turns into an inhumanely fast drunken tackle.
Unfortunately for Shiloh, he’s drunk. So whereas normally he would’ve had no problems charging the naked bloody dude, he instead staggers back into the wall. The man moves forward, catching Shiloh’s hair in his hand and presses his face into Shiloh’s neck and takes a BIG sniff before his tongue comes out and licks Shiloh along the neck. “Oh yes you tasty mate.” He tells the drunk man, “I can smell the alcohol.” More wolf howls dot the distance as he grabs onto Shiloh and just.. well /licks/.
“Um.. I’ma call the police!” Eloa calls out behind of Shiloh as he stumbles into the wall and with shakey hands she turns on her phone to call 911. “Ola? Need help!” She starts to speak into it while watching the wolfman start to lick Shiloh, “Hey leave Shi alone!” A green mule soars through the air.
The mule smacks the man in the head and he scowls as he stops licking Shiloh.
Shiloh crashes into the wall with a loud thud, groaning as he slides against it and falls to the floor, managing to door more damage to himself than he likely would have done to the wolf man. He isn’t given much time to recover before the naked man is on him… licking him. This sends a shiver down his spin and he immediately flinches away, trying to shove the brown haired man off before a green mule comes flying in and strikes him, giving Shiloh enough time to find his feet. “Thanks.” He huffs at Eloa, trying to wipe away the salviva with varying degrees of success.
The wolf man howls when he gets hit by a flying green shoe, growling as he turns his attention to Eloa but Shiloh is just like.. wolfnip to the man. He keeps his grip on Shiloh’s hair.
Meanwhile, in the back Eloa is busy speaking on phone, “Police? Yes this is Ola thrift store. There is werewolf. New werewolf here want eat people. Also say already ate someone! Please come quick!” She begs into the phone although modern phones are loud enough Shiloh can hear a lady in the background clearly chewing on gum saying in a bored tone. “The officers are on their way. Should take an hour because they all busy having break. We only have 2 deputies in this town.”
Success! Shiloh manages to pull away from the wolf man’s grip on his hair and the wolfman growls at Shiloh when his food moves away. Food isn’t supposed to move! “Why you smell so good man?” The wolf complains licking his hand that was in Shiloh’s hair – presumably there was some spilt jello shots on it given how many shots the man made out with.
Shiloh really wants to help the wolfman wolf Shiloh down and see if he can get drunk off eating a drunk man.
Shiloh shakes his head as the wolf man latches on once again and starts licking him, shoving him off as his patience begins to run thin, emotions already running wild from his drunken stupor. Shiloh scans the room, searching for any sort of pole or clothing rack he could use as a makeshift spear, shaking away the oncoming desires. “You’re gonna calm da fuck down or I gonna put ya to sleep till da cops arrive.”
Looking around Shiloh can see 1) A broomstick. 2) the stick that is used to hold the feather of the cat toy he picked up earlier 3) a wooden fork. The fork is closest and the broomstick is furthest with the cattoy on the floor.
The man sneers over at Shiloh, “Yeah mate? You’re gonna put me down? How much have you had to drink huh?” The wereman is surely very obnoxious as he reaches out to poke Shiloh’s shoulder as if that is enough to destabalize the man given how drunk he is.
Shiloh would try to make a dash for the broomstick using his speed to reach it before the wolf man can react. If he does so, he would snap the broomstick over his knee, breaking off the head to just leave the stick. Though first and foremost, that stick would be used for his own balance.
Shiloh manages to stay on his feet as he stumbles over to the broomstick, snapping it into two short spears with pointy edges! Meanwhile at the violence, Eloa squeaks and tumbles back onto the couch, hugging it as she holds onto her necklace and starts to pray.
The brown eyed wolfman sneers a bit at seeing the spear and approaches Shiloh, licking his chops. “Want.. blood.. Bite… Tasty…”
Shiloh blinks down behind his curtain of shaggy auburn hair as his two short spears. Not exactly what he was going for, but he can’t exactly rely on accuracy when he’s twenty shots deep. He discards the stick with the broom attached, leaving himself with just the sharp pointed stick. He breaks down into a practiced defensive stance, finding solid ground once again in his wide stance. “Eloa, I’m going to be surprised if I don’t fall over my own feet. If he starts tearing me to shreds, please send another donkey his way.” He says, only half joking as he prepared for the wolf man’s charge.
Wolfman faces off with Shiloh, standing on the opposite side and grins widely, showing teeth that has well.. bits of human flesh stuck in them. He licks his chops some more still riding that blood lust high with all the wolf howls in the air and charges Shiloh
Shiloh wavers and wobbles as the wolf man begins his charge, though, because of his unpredictable stumbles and drunken movements, it actually makes it a little bit harder to predict him and pin him down. As the wolf man launches himself at Shiloh, he winds up tripping over his own feet, stumbling backwards just as the wolf man would have reached him. It doesn’t take long for Shiloh to recover, sweeping the wolf man’s feet out from beneath him.
BANG! The wolfman falls to the hit feet with a loud crash next to Shiloh and Eloa screams softly before managing to find two white tablets from her bag. She thrusts them at Shiloh. “Stuff it into his mouth! It’s some xanax!” She urges the man. Meanwhile wolfman is groaning softly having hit his head on the floor. Some minor concussion or major concussion who can tell, his eyes are a bit crosseyed for the moment.
Shiloh fumbles for the thrown pills, though they slip through his hands, sending the broomstick slapping against the downed wolf man’s face out of pure unfortunate luck. Shiloh scrambles to find the pills before the wolf man recovers.
There’s a gargling noise coming from the dazed wolfman’s mouth as he slowly starts to get less crossed eyed! Shiloh doesn’t have that long!
Thankfully Eloa goes to try and find the pills for Shiloh as well!
Neither of the two can find the pills! And the wolfman starts slowly trying to push himself upwards, rising his chest off the floor. Maybe Shiloh can bash him on the head or something because Eloa is still scrambling around trying to find the pills!
Shiloh is without his beating stick! It fell on the wolf man’s face! He clears his throat, wobbling to his feet slowly, palms outstretched in a defensive manner, as if to show he means no harm “Easy there big guy. Sun’s gettin’ real low…”
Unfortunately for Shiloh wolf man is not the hulk. Fortunately for Shiloh the knock to his head seems to have stopped the wolfman’s bloodlust. “Huh? What happened mate? Why does my head hurt? There’s something stuck in my teeth…” The man reaches his finger into his mouth, hooking a finger in and then… pulls someone else’s finger out. “What the fuck???!?” He shouts, dropping the finger onto the floor.
Shiloh lets out a loud sigh, all the building tension fleeing his body as the man is clearly no longer under the bloodlust’s spell. He collapses onto the couch tiredly before pointing the wolf man to Eloa “Help her find the xanax, it’s for you so you don’t lose your shit and eat someone’s hand again.” His hand moves to rub at his temples, clearly trying to stave away the oncoming headache.
Maybe it’s Shiloh that needs the xanax. Eloa looks over at him a bit worriedly as he collapses onto the couch. At least the drunk man isn’t giggling as much anymore! She squeaks a bit as the wolf man spits on the ground and then goes over to find a thermos of coffee before chugging the whole thing. “Yuck.” The man dictates before coming back, dropping the empty thermos. “So what gives man? What’s happening with me?” He asks as he looks around then realizing he’s naked, reaches his hands down to cup the ding dongs. “How did I get here?? I’ve never been here before..”
Shiloh pauses as the wolf man begins asking questions. Shiloh could not decide which was worse in this moment, a raging wolf man trying to eat him, or having to explain the intricacies of awakening with an oncoming migraine “Uh.” He looks to Eloa for some help, “So imagine you’ve contracted an STI…”
The innocent catholic looks at Shiloh with wide eyes, “Can you catch wolf from fuck wolf?” She asks Shiloh suddenly seeming horrified for some reason.
The man meanwhile tilts his head to the side as if trying to decide if Shiloh is fucking with him or not. “STIs don’t exist man. I’m a chad. I’ve had at least like 50 babes this year alone okay? STI’s dont affect chads.” Distantly… there’s the sound of sirens.
Shiloh perks up, never did he think he would be happy to hear those sirens, “Well, thankfully someone’s coming that will have a better explanation for you.” He relays to the wolf man before looking to Eloa helplessly, shrugging “I was talking about gettin’ bit by one. Was gonna relate it to an STI cause it’s more relatable den sayin’, so yer a werewolf now…”
Wee wooo wee wooo. The sirens come closer and the man infront of them suddenly freaks, “Wait I’m a werewolf? And I just bit someone? PEACE YO.” He yells before making a mad dash up the stairs. The sound of pounding feet disappears as he makes off into the street, leaving the two to clean up the almighty mess he had made.