Chris’ ideal week was simple. He would get up each day, prepare for work in an orderly fashion, go treat family pets and other animals for extended hours each day, then go home. That was the best way for him to satisfy his own needs to do a good job as well as to keep him as a functioning member of society.

 So it was easy to tell this week was beginning to grind at his nerves. He’d never been more relieved for Thursday to come. It was back from his [i]third[/i] drive to Jennings in the past week that his car decided it would give up on him. The stupid thing had been his for a couple years now, and truthfully he had bought it used, but he assumed that the small- enough mileage meant that he could at least get three or four years out of it. Now there was a small part of him that wanted to drive back to where he’d bought the vehicle in the first place and beat the shit out of the man that sold it to him, but that would be wrong. He may have been a shoddy salesman, but that didn’t mean he deserved Chris’ wrath, unfortunately.

  So Chris managed to call in a mechanic, found a cheap motel nearby, and reluctantly called his practice to tell them he couldn’t come in the next day. It was the only option he had really. His practice and home were on the other side of Silverstone, and there was no way he was making it through the city without any friends to transport him.

 The mechanic told him it’d be ready by about 9, so Chris was ready by then. He showered around 8:15, changed into a collared shirt and slacks around 8:25, had a bagel and cheap coffee in hand ten minutes later, and was standing in front of the mechanics shop by 9 after the man in charge had picked him up, leaving them a few minutes of leeway for them to get his car ready. Unfortunately, it appeared that wasn’t the case. The man in charge said the mechanic working on his car wasn’t there yet and, after complaining about this employee for much long than he should’ve, told Chris to wait around until it was ready.
 This left Chris with time to think, unfortunately. About the anger that was bubbling beneath his skin, and the violence through which he found his satisfaction. It had been ages since he’d felt bones crack beneath his fists, and that thought alone was enough to make him shudder with anticipation. That, plus the fact his work was being interrupted by damage even police couldn’t understand (that was clearly animalistic, but not from any animal Chris had ever seen) was sending his blood into a boil.

 The world was always feeling different, and the number of people who were dark and impure was always growing. He was pensive and stoic as the girl whom he assumed was his mechanic walked over to him.

 He raised an eyebrow at her appearance. Based on the total disarray of her appearance, it was easy to tell that she’d only just woken up a while ago and hadn’t put any effort into looking professional at all. Chris was unimpressed. He’d seen her briefly the day before, but he could barely remember what she’d said, or what she’d looked like.

 “It’s closer to 11 than it should be,” he said grimly as he stared down at the expensive watch on his wrist.

 “So, is it ready? Or does your incompetence know no bounds,” he growled, “I would hate to wait her longer when I was told it would be ready two hours ago.
 [i]Today is not a good day to try my patience.”[/i]

 The last sentence he said through gritted teeth, glaring down at the mechanic in front of him. Did she deserve the anger? Probably not, but he had no time for lazy people.