[Natsume takes the bag without thinking, obeying the command of his alpha -- of Dirk -- instinctively. His wide, hazy golden eyes are perplexed, anxious.] You're mad. Why...why are you mad?
[This isn't how it's supposed to go. Natsume's brow furrows, fingers curling into the fabric of his bag, voice tremble and small:] How...how do I fix it? I want to fix it.
I'm not mad. (Except he is. He really is. He knows he is. He pinches his brow, jostling his glasses.)
I'm just feeling - (Possessive. Over an omega that wasn't technically his. He didn't even know if Natsume really wanted this with him specifically or if he was just open for any alpha in the area.
But his sense of moral direction was crumbling rapidly the longer he was exposed to Natsume's scent. God, he smelled perfect.)
[Delighted to have an order, a direction of some sort, Natsume promptly sits on one of the bins of sports supplies. He arches both eyebrows, looking expectantly up at Dirk, awaiting -- praise, maybe.
He'd be satisfied for Dirk to just keep telling him what to do. Keep being grouchy and bossy and standing above him, smelling absolutely wonderful.] You smell good.
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[This isn't how it's supposed to go. Natsume's brow furrows, fingers curling into the fabric of his bag, voice tremble and small:] How...how do I fix it? I want to fix it.
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I'm just feeling - (Possessive. Over an omega that wasn't technically his. He didn't even know if Natsume really wanted this with him specifically or if he was just open for any alpha in the area.
But his sense of moral direction was crumbling rapidly the longer he was exposed to Natsume's scent. God, he smelled perfect.)
You don't need to fix it. Just. Sit down.
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He'd be satisfied for Dirk to just keep telling him what to do. Keep being grouchy and bossy and standing above him, smelling absolutely wonderful.] You smell good.