i must admit, i can't explain Who: Lance & Cate. What: Passing notes during class. When: Monday, April 10. Where: Film Study. Warnings: TBA. Status: Ongoing.
Failure to concentrate seemed like an understatement. His phone, the text, the lecture, nothing was enough to distract his thoughts from the impending full moon. And it was just the day before; Lance realized he might need to call out tomorrow, which would only look even stranger and make it difficult to get access to the school basement.
Fingers drummed on the slim frame of his desk, dwarfed even more by his huge stature; at the very least, he was off to one side of the classroom, not blocking anyone's line of sight when a film was queued up for the day. No such luck this time around; instead they were listening to a lecture about Martin Scorsese, which he would have normally been all ears for. Instead, it was taking everything in him to focus on not jumping up from his desk and out the door.
He could still remember the dream: running through the woods, chasing after... he thought it'd been a fox, but there was something about the thing that had been so human. It'd run from him, all right -- anything in its right mind would've run -- but he remembered tasting a sense of panic that didn't seem like it belonged in a primitive mind. He could taste the rage, the hunger, and remember how easily he'd caught it. No, not it; her. He'd ripped her apart, he'd eaten her, like an anima-
"Mr. Matthews, if you could kindly not play with your desk and pay attention, I think we'd all appreciate it," the teacher said, making his head snap up as he realized he'd drawn four neat furrows with his nails under the desk's top, making a long, eerie screeching sound in the middle of the lecture. Mollified, he nodded, carefully folding both hands on top of the desk, trying to make himself seem smaller and more unnoticeable than physically possible.