Conan St. Clair was in a rut.

He was itchy and antsy and a bit lonely, something that was a bit unnatural for him. He never really was a lone wolf, but it seemed like everyone who was anyone was out and about and without any need for him.

Well, bully for them. He could have fun on his own.

He convinced himself this several hours ago, and proceeded to attempt to entertain himself with a pack of cards and too much soda. All he ended up with was papercuts, a full bladder, and bigger sense of boredom. He fretted for a bit, gave himself a new bruise or two on the corners of tables or cupboards, then sighed and hemmed and hawed. He put on a jacket, took it off, put it back on and checked his pockets.

To his surprise, he had found a ten.

There was, of course, only one logical thing he could do with this ten, and that was to spend it in the theatres.

Cheerfully, he strolled up to the ticket booth and offered his most charming smile, purchasing a ticket for a movie he had never heard of. The little icon by the title was cute, though, so he figured it had to be good. With a destination in mind and something to do, Conan cheerfully walked into Bay Street Theatre.

"Down-the-hall-and-to-the-left," instructed the bored ticket-ripper-lady as she tore his ticket in half. To Conan, she sounded like a robot. He smiled thankfully and tripped away, narrowly missing the woman. She gave him a bland look and his smile turned a bit nervous. He hurried away, his eyes to the left and therefore not concentrating on anything in front of him. He was an accident waiting to happen.

| OOC - This isn't reserved for anyone. Go wild? =\ |

Why was Cort in this theatre? He would never go here. It didn't fit him. So, why?

Oh yeah. Culture. He was desperatly trying to culture himself in an attempt to hold back the hositlity of his newly released animal side. Fight it with sophistication.

Hey. It might work.

So he was here, buying a ticket. Being given the directions, he started on his way.

Again, enjoy his newfound sense of smell, Cort let the fragrances of the building wash over him. People, bits of electrical equipment, enemy.

Pausing, the boy took a deep, slow breath through hs nose. There, it was another. It was the same type of smell Morgan had given off. Cort stood there for a moment, composing himself. He wouldn't flip out again.

Ok. He was good now. The smell was still there causing hell on his nose, but he would ignore it. He would triumph.

He hoped.

Conan frowned at his ticket stub. He had managed to get himself hopelessly lost, and what was worse, he had could sense an almost unbearable amount of hostility wafting from someone near by. He drew together his eyebrows and scanned the faces of nearby people, trying to put a face to the feeling.

His other senses were going a bit haywire, themselves. The animosity and hostility were prevelant, obviously, but what really caught his attention was the overall feeling of someone like him being there. Another werewolf? What were the chances of that? From what he knew, lycanthropes were rare.

He put his hands in the front pocket of his sweater and zeroed in on Cort. Ah. Was that him? His were senses were tingling, but he couldn't be completely sure. Wouldn't that be great, getting in a tiff with an unassuming when all he wanted to do was watch a movie?

Well, the person seemed oblivious to him, so he gave a shrug to himself and started forward, spotting the sign above the boy's head. He was standing right in front of the movie he wanted to go into. Trying to act casual and as if he weren't secretly measuring the boy up, he reached over to push the door open, stumbled, and bumped shoulders with Cort.

His inner self heaved a mental sigh.

"Sorry," offered he, turning to meet eyes with Cort.

The man bumped into Cort, and at first that was fine. He caught the man, assuring him it was ok. Culture, remember.

Then Cort's nose spoke up.

him! enemy! attackattackattack!

Unvoluntarily, the boy's hands clenched on the older man's shoulders and Cort's mouth opened in a semi-snarl. With a great force of will, Cort stopped himself. He released his hold and closed his mouth.

"I'm sorry," he said, hoping the other werewolf was feeling less hostile than Cort was. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if all werewolves were like this or just him.

The sudden burst of...well, flat out loathing slightly startled him. He narrowed his eyes, disreguarding the apology momentarily. There was that wolf in him, gnashing at the itty bitty mind chains (they really weren't that strong, mind you), dying to pounce the other wolf and chomp him to bite sized pieces.

He smiled, instead.

This was the kind of smile that was really just a slight upturn of his lips. The kind that snotty rich ladies that think they're better than everyone might give. Patronizing. Cold. Not reaching his eyes.

He gave a small shrug. "It, um..."

The problem with Conan was that although he had that sadistic wolf in him, he was still the shy boy from before he got chomped. It was hard, really; a tug of war between "shy" and "I want to eat his brains".

The shy part was prevailing. Despite the fact that he knew, now, that this guy was another wolf, he was also a stranger. Talking to strangers was practically out of the question. He averted his eyes and shrugged again.

"It's quite all right. These things, er, happen."

"Yeah."

The wolf part of Cort was dying to destory the person in front of him.

protect! defend! attack!

Cort took a step back, trying to breath through his mouth. If he couldn't smell the other wolf, it wasn't quite so bad.

"Are you all right?" The poor attempt at courtesy would have been almost laughable to an observer.

"Um...er...yes. Quite all right. I'm sorry again for running into you. Really. I mean. I'm really sorry. Not like, verifying that I was apologizing. But I am. Er, sorry." He stopped himself quickly, feeling silly. Babbling was in his nature, especially when it came to apologizing.

"Are you, ah, okay? You look like you're going to start moulting or something." Oh, that was good. He flinched inwardly at himself, then took a deep breath. Accidental insults weren't a good idea when it came to angry werewolves.

"Sorry. Um. Again. About that. And about running into you."

He took a step back, liking the distance between him and Cort—distance meant safety, really.

Cort didn't want to be angry, and the human part of him was warming up to this person. They didn't seem so bad.

no! enemy! they take!

Cort shook his head. The wolf was partly placated at the odd signs of submission. Sure, he didn't lower his head or show his belly, but it was close.

Giving a smile that didn't look too forced, Cort said, "Heh. Just, um, allergies, or something." He wasn't sure why he was still lying when they both obviously knew what the other was.

"Don't worry about running into me. It's fine." The wolf was still growling beneath the surface.

He nodded, glad to have soothed the other's ruffled nerves slightly.

"Ah, what play are you here to see?"

Conan wanted to ask more personal questions, but now was not the time of place. Well, he was lonely, and although the other wolf was, well, another wolf, he wouldn't mind the company.

"I'm, er, watching..." He looked at the stub, then grinned a bit at the name of the movie. "...Bad Moon Rising."

| OOC: My bad. I thought it was a movie theatre. *fixes that* |

Cort looked at his own stub as well, not really having payed attention to what he was paying for.

"Hey, same thing." He grinned more genuinly this time.

The wolf was getting bored. For the moment it was -- what? -- sleeping.

((Is a blergh post. Sorry.))

He smiled back, this smile not very crazy-rich-patronizing-lady-esque.

"Well, that's good. I needed someone to watch this with me. Felt a bit weird coming here by my, er, self." Conan was absurdly proud of himself for getting out more than four words without stuttering, but he was starting to fidget. Standing in one place for too long wasn't his forte, really.

"Do you want to get coffee after this?" Conan shouldn't drink coffee. He was jittery enough. "I mean, after the play. You don't have to, of course. I'm just bored, and relishing the night." Conan also shouldn't be out during the night, since he was a walking case of disaster.

But Cort didn't have to know that.

"I'm Conan, by the way. Conan St. Clair."

| OOC: I just realized in one of my posts I called Conan Conor. Whoops. I was going to name him Conor originally. *goofball* |

"Coffee sounds good," Cort said. If he hadn't been able to smell the lack of pheromones, the bou would have thought the other one was trying to pick him up.

"I'm Cort Winter," he said, pushing open the door to the theatre.

If Conan had been trying to pick Cort up, he would be blushing a good deal more than he was right now. Which he wasn't. Blushing, that is. He was just stumbling all over himself, trying to make a new friend. He was like a schoolboy in that sense.

The unfortunate thing was that he probably did appear to be trying to pick Cort up.

"Nice to meet you," he offered Cort's back, then looked at the ceiling and scoffed at himself. Smooth, he was not. He wondered if there was a class in debonair. Something for hopeless, chattering goofballs like him.

"Do you even know what this is supposed to be about? I, erm, just bought the ticket without even bothering to check."

Cort looked back, shrugging.

"I'm not sure. I didn't even know what movie I was seeing until you asked me."

((Didn't say it last post, will say it this post: Until about a week ago, I didn't remember Cort's last name. Hee.))

"Well, that's okay. I didn't know what movie I was going to see until I told you." He glanced around for an empty seat. "I wonder if it's going to be anything like Phantom of the Opera. I fell asleep during that. The chandelier falling woke me up."

He got a rude glance from a nearby woman for that admittance, and he responded by tripping over her purse. It wasn't his fault she had it in the middle of the aisle, nor was it his fault that he wasn't a theatre buff. He had problems with paying attention.

| OOC: Do you have any ideas, plotwise? |

Cort helped the other boy to regain his feet. "I don't really see much theatre myself. This is my first time."

Cort didn't have problems with paying attention, except when it was boring. Like theatre.

((Not really. We could just have them sit down and cut this thread.))

| OOC: Righto, Cap'n |

Conan offered an appreciative look and straightened, plopping down on the nearest empty seat.

"Well, if anything, I'm glad I met you. I don't know too many people 'round here, especially not ones well, like, me."

A regal looking man turned around and gave him a rather scandalized look. It should be noted here that the man probably came to a conclusion that because they were both young men and watching theatre, and because Conan had said that cryptic comment. Conan gave him a puzzled smile and that was that.