[attr="class","CONTENT2"]Tapping his ticket on the digital reader, Mick pushed through the turnstile's metal bars and made his way down the stairs to the lower grounds of the subway station. The typical subway smell hit him even before he entered the station... the mixed smell of creosote, steel brake dust, electrical smoke, garbage, human sweat, and urine. It wasn't pleasant with a human sense of smell and it certainly wasn't pleasant with a dog's nose. Mick had only arrived in New York City a while ago and was still in the middle of getting used to the city. Wrinkling his nose in disgust he jogged down the stairs. However, even in Boston, the subway smelled bad but he could swear it was worse in New York. Much, much worse.

... stand clear of the closing doors, please.

A man rushed past him, running towards the train as the doors started closing. "Hold the door, hold the door." he yelled, and fortunately for him, someone actually did hold the door. The automatic doors opened once again, but for the last time, letting the now out of breath man stumble inside the train. Mick could see how he mouthed a quick thanks to the stranger and ignored the angry stares he was given by passengers who didn't appreciate arriving thirty seconds late at home or their transfer station.

Hands tucked away in the pockets of his navy colored Harrington jacket, the werewolf made his way to the middle of the platform, aiming for one of the drinks vending machine. He fished out some dollar notes and slipped them inside the cash slit before pressing the button for a simple soda. The bright, red can dropped down with a loud thud echoing through the empty platform. He grabbed the can, opening the tab with a quick pull. He took a long sip of the sweet, sweet drink, wiping away a drop escaping its way.

A glance at the countdown clock told him the next Brooklyn bound train would arrive in sixteen minutes. Maybe he should have run after the guy and join him in catching the last train, although, Mick might not have been able to ignore the angry glares without at least growling a little. Breathe, he told himself, unconsciously squeezing the tin can in his hand.

He casually leaned back against one of the pillars, his gaze wandering between the other side, looking at the second platform, and the two tunnel entrances. He could have sworn he saw movement, a silhouette of a human even. Rubbing his tired eyes and blinking slowly he looked again. Another train stopped by, taking the silhouette with it. Mick ran a hand through his shaggy hair, letting out a sigh.

Perhaps it was just his imagination.

[attr="class","TAG2"]TAG: @marceline ; I hope this works!