ArchivedLogs:Claustrophobia
| Claustrophobia | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2014-08-18 ' |
| Location | |
Bustling, crowded, noisy, the subway is often alive with the sounds of musicians busking, conversations flowing, the rattle and roar of trains pulling into and out of the stations. Sometimes confusing for tourists, the subway remains a cheap and useful way to navigate the city. Picture if you will, pim Billy navigating the dank, dingy New York underground. He clutches the strap of his bag tightly and constantly scans with his peripheral. His unreal, ivory-clean sneakers splash into a murky puddle of Lord knows what kind of stagnant liquid. Urine? Billy wrinkles his nose and frowns. There is one saving grace. As he steps up onto his train, which appears right away: there is no one else on it. He quietly slides into a seat by the window and settles in to daydream out of it. He has a little paperback book on his lap, just in case. Anette books it down the steps, weaving in and out of tourists and locals, trying not to knock them down (not trying too hard though). It seems she knows exactly where she's going and, wherever it is, she's running late. As the tube comes in sight, she books it even faster, nearly running into a busker as she struggles through the lagging groups, nearly cussing out a particularly large group that chose the middle of the corridor to check their maps. She reaches the doors just before they close, her leather jacket catching by an inch. As she turns around to pull herself free, she catches sight of Billy. "Hey there Chlorox. How've you been?" she asks, giving her jacket a quick yank and, once free, chooses a seat opposite Billy. Chlorox’s-err-Billy’s eyes snap to attention. Slowly, he turns to stare over at Anette. He waits for a moment, maybe to wake up from this terrible dream. “Don’t call me that,” he greets dryly, crossing his legs and tugging his bag closer to his chest and stomach. Still, he can’t help flicking his eyes down and up his old classmate, “How are you?” As the train lurches forward, so does his frail little body. He quickly rights himself back in the plastic seat. Anette chuckles as she's reprimanded yet again. "Oh...you were always such a stick in the mud. Lighten up, would you?" She crosses her legs and leans back against her seat, relaxing as the train picks up speed. "Oh, I've been alright. Completely broke, but alright." "Thank you. That has really inspired me to lighten up," Billy mumbles through his teeth, sighing theatrically as he rolls his eyes to stare back out the window. "Yeah, me too," he chews on the inside of his lip and looks back to her, "Do you even like, get /paid/?" Asked the full time student. The subway car jolts, shaking its contents as the lights flicker. It continues on for a few paces before halting, altogether. The lights shut off completely, leaving Anette and Billy in complete and total darkness. The emergency lighting eventually does come on, but it is sorely lacking. Anette shrugs slightly. "I do whatever odd jobs I can find. Whatever comes. I should find something a bit more permanent though. Though how many fast food places would hire someone with wings?" Her eyes suddenly dart to the ceiling as the lights blink out and the train stops. "What the hell? God fucking dammit..." She sighs and removes her coat, revealing her wings. "Well...at least I can cool off a bit." Feeling even more dwarfed than he felt before, Billy watches the wings rise, and the shadow they cast. Frowning, he fidgets to slide his cell phone out of the pockets of his too-tight shorts. Swiping his finger, his pale face is illuminated with a blue glow, "No service." He SIGHS. Anette shakes her head. "I could have told you that. Cells never have service down here." She sighs softly and stands, pacing back and forth. "Well...we'll get out of here eventually. If we don't roast to death first. Or suffocate." She doesn't seem too bothered by it, just merely stating facts. "So...we might as well chitchat...what've you been up to?" Billy tosses his bag to the side, big wet eyes bulging, "We could suffocate?!" He squeaks, starting to fan himself. "Don't freak out," he whispers to himself, disregarding Anette's question, "Oh, I feel light headed." Anette turns her head (her body staying put) as she hears Billy begin to suffocate. "Oh relax. We would have to be stuck down here for hours before that happened. The entire London underground shutdown after the bombings and everybody came out alright. Well...you know what I mean." She twists her head forward again and makes her way back to her seat. "You -really- need to loosen up. I can't believe you're even more uptight than you were in school." “What if there was a bomb?” Billy brings his fingers up to run through his hair, “Oh my gosh, I’m going to die down here…” His eyes trail after Anette, “...with /YOU/.” He narrows his eyes, nostrils flaring as he shakes his head, “Me? Loosen up? Can’t you like, I don’t know, /criminal/ a way out of here?!” "Oh for the love of...we're fine! The train will get going any minute now, just relax!" Anette spits, clearly annoyed by Billy's overreaction to their current predicament. "And what's so bad about being stuck with -me-? Alright, I know I'm not the easiest person to get along with but you act like I'm going to murder you in your sleep." Her voice suddenly grows VERY stern and very cold. "And I am -not- a criminal." Billy jolts, and jolts, and jolts at each point. Once Anette stops talking, he brings his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them. Eyes darting to and fro in rapid thought, he starts to sniffle. "Are y...oh my god, REALLY? You're going to cry?" Anette stammers, suddenly running to the door and pounding on it. "Let me off this train NOW!" Clearly getting no where with this, she turns around and leans against the wall. "Look...I'd try to comfort you but A) I'm no good at it and you'd probably just spontaneously combust if I touched you and B) I'm afraid you'll give me a chemical burn." Billy sniffles, "I can't he-help it." He blinks away the wetness in his eyes as he does his best to take deep, deliberate breaths. "I-" He stops, turning to glare at her, "You know, I don't even want you to touch me. Go to the other end of the car. This side is mine. I was here first." "Just-just-just leave me alone." He re-settles on the seat, still hugging himself, "You're so mean." Anette rolls her eyes. "Fine, cry all you want. I don't care. I won't even say anything. But I am sitting where I like..." she says, sitting down where she had originally sat down, across from Billy. "Look...what did I do to you that was so terrible? A few snarky comments here and there but...geeze, what the hell?" Billy shakes his head, craning his neck away from Anette quite /indignantly/. Of course, he's trembling too much to move, himself. "Look, can we -- not do this right now?" His breathing starting becoming more audible and, again rather too theatrically, he brings a hand to his chest as he fights off hyperventilating. He's freakin' out. Anette watches Billy a moment before sighing and standing up. "Alright, just...just trust me for half a moment, will you?" she says, her voice suddenly calm. Almost soothing even. Almost. She stretches out her wings and gently begins flapping them. Just enough to cause a gentle breeze to flow over Billy. "Just...breathe, alright? Close your eyes and relax..." Billy starts to nod, and breathe, and calm down. Eventually, slumped and drained of all energy, his legs slide back down limply and his hands come up to fix his hair. He clears his throat, "T-thanks," he says under his breath, unable to make eye-contact, "I-I'm sorry." "That was really nice of you." Anette slows her flapping down once she trusts Billy's feeling better. "See? I'm not Satan incarnate. Not always anyway." Suddenly, the lights blink on. "Shit..." she snaps, quickly turning away from Billy and grabbing her coat off her seat. She slips it over her shoulders, hiding her wings from view once more. "Well then...looks like we're on our way then." Seconds after she finishes that, the conductor apologizes for the delay (minor power outage) and the train continues on its way. Billy clears his throat, straightening the collar of his shirt, "Looks like it." Reaching for the strap of his bag where it was strewn in the chaos, he puts it back over his shoulder. Rather than stick around when the train slows to a stop at the next station, Billy makes his escape - slipping out of the automatic doors quietly and without even a word of goodbye. | |
