There it is, the mounting tension. A large group of people coagulating at the entrance to the train. Barry had made a point to get here early, but had run into some...issues. Still, he’d been told that there would definitely be no traffic like this! What was the hold up?!
Hold your tongue, Barry--his mom, stern but kind, would always say. When the urge to exclaim became too much, that was exactly when you were supposed to shut your mouth. Find a safer place, vent there. A wise man knew which battles to pick. She would probably sigh at him if she were here now, but he can’t help it. He’d waiting an entire ten (three) minutes, and the crowd wasn’t budging an inch. Barry feels his fingers itch as that familiar tenseness creeps into his chest. He gives in quickly and without much of a fight, all four of his limbs flailing.
“WHY ARE YOU ALL MOVING SO SLOW?!”
The protest is louder than actually angry, a tantrum that lasts for a total of two seconds before one beefy lady turns and gives him the mean mug of a life time. Barry swallows hard, lips pursing into a thin line to stifle any noise of weakness. He manages to not take a step backwards, but he is subtly leaning that way, as if her presence alone was enough to push him.
He makes eye contact with anyone who will offer sympathy, unsure of how to handle this. Normally he’d steel himself and face foes head on, but in light of recent events he wasn’t feeling too confident.
@caligationis
