Arlene nodded. Of course that was a good idea, it simply hadn't occurred to her. "I would very much appreciate it," she said; the sound of sirens was starting to make her nervous and fidgety. She wasn't sure what the paramedics would think of guy with a sword, and two people helping him despite the quite obvious rampage that had just occurred. She would prefer to be at home or stealing a few anxiety pills. She stepped back to give more space for the checkup and pulled the ziplock bags out of her sweater. The reactions had stopped, so they weren't keeping her warm anymore; she found a trash can and tossed them in. "Uh..merry Christmas," she mumbled. "Not that I care for Christmas. Just thank you for helping, yeah." She was shivering now. Damn her body for being defenseless against Mother Nature without inorganic chemical reactions.
The noise, the noise... How much more could he take? Why was everyone shoving past Dwayne? Why did the woman's singing make him feel so dreadfully uncomfortable? Oh, yes, of course, he'd chosen the worst possible spot to get his thoughts together. Idiot, he thought viciously to himself. Get out. Get out. He turned around. Too late, the crowd had thickened since his arrival. He clutched his head and groaned, the blood pounding in his head. The medication only worked to a degree, and its wonders evaporated now. On top of all of this, he was starting to feel weak, although he assumed it was part of the ridiculous stress reaction. He bared his teeth in an attempt to make a little personal bubble, to no avail. He tried to shove out of the crowd in the opposite direction. A wave of nausea passed over him. Images blurred together. No. No, no, no, don't space out, no, not now.
A man bumped into him. He couldn't help it. It wasn't out of meanness, just a reflex, but the damage was done. Dwayne had bitten the person on their upper arm, and his filed teeth had easily torn open the skin. It elicited a surprised, angry yell, and he cowered. Get out before it takes effect on him. It felt like a stone had dropped in his stomach. That was a conspicuous bite. Any forensics team would be able to trace the toxic spit to him. He grabbed the man's arm and scraped out the wound with his sleeve. It sure wouldn't save the poor soul, but it'd (with any luck) keep Dwayne out of trouble. He wiped the blood off of his lips and shoved back, fiercely now, trying to escape the throng of people.