One bottle hit the wall and crashed. Gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp, then a second bottle. Chad was not stopping for no one, and eagerly grabbed the third. If he took a second to focus beyond the placement of the bottle cap opener, he'd of realised he was shaking. [i]It was something; I did not imagine it. SHUT UP. Drink more, you pussy.[/i] 

He dropped the third empty bottle, let it smash on the floor, and then collapsed into a heavily moulded bench behind him. The lobby was quiet, eerily so, and this did not add to Chad's mood in a positive way. Desperately trying to get a hold of himself, to the point of denying the streaks on his arm resembled fingers, he entertained the idea of making a break for the SUV and driving off as fast as he could. 

"Naw," he sighed to himself, "the great Chad, ruffled by a freak occurrence of the shadows?" 

The sound of his own voice, mocking yet confident, gave him something to anchor on. He was a fully grown mad, God darned it, and he wasn't about to cave in like a child. It'd been a decade since he last admitted he was afraid of the dark. In an attempt to distract himself, he tried again to recall his brother's experience at the place - though nothing seemed to come. His brother had gotten lucky here, he knew that, and he would've remembered if someone got hurt. One thing that did come to mind though, was that strange look in his eyes - an emotion Chad seldom saw on his brother's features. It was fear. Ball breaking fear.