[Ben hates waking up naked and covered in blood. He's not sure if it's better or worse when the blood is human and isn't his. Usually he can remember what happened, but this time--]
Uh huh, thought so. [Sid is crouched at his side, putting a blanket over Ben to keep him warm. He shakes his head] Rent-a-cops, don't know "not dead" when they see it.
[They're in a corner of the mall, which hasn't opened yet thankfully. Sid and the mall security are the only ones there.] Are you alright?
I... [Ben starts to scrub a hand through his hair, but it's covered in blood that's not his and he stops with a strangled sound.] It's not. This isn't my blood.
[Sid is trying not to look worried but he can't help it.] ...we were hoping you could shed some light on that mystery. They're still looking for the other body.
[Ben sits up and pulls the blanket around him, shivering.] I can usually remember. [He's not tracking well at all.] It's my favorite time of the month. I wonder. If someone... drugged. Me. [Really not tracking, otherwise he would not say the following to a perfect stranger.] What would roofies do to a werewolf?
[At least Sid is a bit open minded when it came to the strange and absurd. This would fall into that category.] Ehh...I couldn't say, I'm not exactly an expert on either of those things.
[Meanwhile, he's shining a penlight in each of his eyes and checking his arms for track marks. Drug use was the obvious answer, but Sid knew better than to assume.] How are you feeling now? Dizziness? Headache? Nausea?
All that. Like... a bad hangover. [Ben closes his eyes, grimacing. There are track marks on his arms, but they're years old, along with most of the copious scars that cover him. One scar of note is a clawed, hand-shaped mark over his heart, surrounded by what looks like a circular, tattooed protective sigil, which in turn is surrounded by another circular scar with scarred runes between the tattoo and the scar. It will definitely look odd to an outsider.]
Except I wasn't drinking last night.
[He cracks an eyelid open.] Where am I? Who are you?
What. What did I--?
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[They're in a corner of the mall, which hasn't opened yet thankfully. Sid and the mall security are the only ones there.] Are you alright?
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What did I do?
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[Meanwhile, he's shining a penlight in each of his eyes and checking his arms for track marks. Drug use was the obvious answer, but Sid knew better than to assume.] How are you feeling now? Dizziness? Headache? Nausea?
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Except I wasn't drinking last night.
[He cracks an eyelid open.] Where am I? Who are you?
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