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When a convention just wasn't going your way, sometimes, the best thing you could do was grab yourself a glass, fill it up to the brim with a drink, and settle down in your hotel room.

The problem more often than not, however, was an utter lack of alcohol to consume, and sometimes, the lack of funds with which to get a drink was just as great of a problem.

Aaron found himself on the short end of both sticks, as the night was winding down, and the remaining hours of the convention were draining away quickly. The entirety of the show hadn't been a bust, but at night, the crowds and parties that he was used to seeing simply weren't there, and the bulk of the people that he called his friends simply weren't present that time around. It made for long and difficult evenings when the panels and shows were winding down, and the last of the money he'd saved for the weekend was meant to help him get home, rather than to get lost in the sauce.

"What a total and utter waste of a Saturday," Aaron groaned to himself, as he held an empty glass in his right hand, sitting in the overly large and unwieldy office chair in his hotel room. He couldn't think of any late night panels that he wanted to be a part of, and the dance didn't appeal to him in any way. He didn't much feel like laughing, and his sarcasm was just a bit too dry to be appreciated at most of the comedy panels, regardless. "Shame that I'm already out of booze..."

Empty bottles decorated the desk that he sat at, as though he were sitting in a college dorm room, instead of a hotel room. There had been a few people over on Thursday and Friday evening, but not the kind of company that he was hoping for or expecting, and come Saturday, there were no repeats. He was alone with nothing more than empty glasses and empty bottles to call company, and his frustrations with the fact were evident and brooding, even as he tried to focus on and recall the good times that had come before this lull.

It wasn't doing a whole lot of good. Aaron tried to shake his visible frustrations as he tossed the glass upon the desk and shrugged, deciding that he might have just enough money left over to make a trip down to the hotel bar. He could likely afford one last drink, he decided, and just sit in coach on the ride back home, rather than taking first class.

The trade off sounded like a slightly dangerous proposition.

**

People were rushing themselves around the hallways of the hotel, as Aaron simply did his best to fight his way through the elevator crowd.

Almost every convention was the same, to him. There were droves of people wearing ears and tails, some of them even going so far as to put on an entire suit of fur and dress up like the animal that they truly wished to be, or perhaps, even thought that they were.

For Aaron, dressing up never felt like a fitting thing to do. It wasn't going to magically turn him into the kind of beast that he often fancied himself to be, and he didn't have the extra funds laying around to spend on what such a costume would usually cost. He had plenty of friends who'd literally dropped tens of thousands on such costumes, but naturally, none of them were around for him to pal around with, and even if they were, they didn't always bring him closer to that [b]natural[/b] feeling that he was searching for.

Instead, he always felt like he was one step further away from it...so much so that he wasn't sure he'd ever attend another convention, after this one. The only thing even keeping him on the hotel grounds wasn't a panel, or a group of people, but at this point, the man behind the bar, who scarcely had time to wipe glasses clean before they had to be set down and filled again; furries were notoriously heavy drinkers.

"I'll have a Manhat-

"[b]I'll get to you in a minute, sir![/b]" yelled back an exasperated bartender. He barely had the chance to make a proper reply, and certainly didn't mean to be rude to Aaron, but it was clear that he was at the end of his rope, and one more drink order was just one more thing that he couldn't handle. A metal shaker was picked up off of the counter with trembling fingers, and the bartender shook it rapidly as he tried to prepare shots for the mass of bodies that was surrounding the bar.

It gave Aaron a moment to realize just how lucky he was to even get a seat at the bar during such a crowded convention.

"Phew...o-okay!" the exhausted bartender finally made his way back over to Aaron, who was sitting upon his stool with a lackluster gaze. He didn't much seem to care about the plight of the overwhelmed staff member, and naturally, he was brushing elbows with a group of people who didn't care that they were hogging up all of the bar space. Oddly enough, it seemed that people were losing their manners more and more often at a place that Aaron once considered to be a sacred place. "What can I get for you, sir?"

"I'll take a Manhattan," Aaron replied. His voice was every bit as dry as his stare.

The bartender looked nearly unnerved by the way that Aaron addressed him, but the man was all out of patience for the weekend. As long as this was taking, he knew that he wasn't going to make the early flight that he was considering, and if he was going to stay the final day, after all, he wanted to make sure that it would be [b]entirely[/b] worth it, starting with this drink. "S...sure thing, sir," the bartender managed. It was clear that he wasn't sure how to handle the break that he'd been given, and he made it clear that he was hoping for something more than the barest excuse for conversation that he was offered.

Time slowed for just a moment, as Aaron rested his chin in the palm of his frustrated hand and stared into space. He'd been to plenty of bars, and knew that if his was the only drink to make, a proper Manhattan shouldn't take any more than thirty-five seconds to finish, but as zoned out as he was, he didn't notice that the drink was taking slightly longer than that. He wasn't paying any attention to the small, peculiar looking bottle that was being held next to the whiskey. He couldn't see the ironic label, reading 'bitters' on the side of it, even if that was clearly a cover-up for something else.

He didn't even hear the drink being placed in front of him, or the price demanded for it. He was only roused by the familiar, oak and fruit notes that drifted up to his nostrils.

"How much was that, again?" Aaron asked, openly admitting that he didn't hear a word of what the bartender had to say.

The bartender sighed and shook his head, and Aaron was already taking a drink as he fetched out his billfold. "That's $10.50. Cash, I'd assume?"

Aaron set $15.00 on the bar and gestured dismissively with his fingers. It was quite the generous tip for a single drink, but he wasn't in the mood to sit around and wait for the bartender to make change, and he felt that it might be the best way to create a further separation, even if it was a bit of an awkward method.

Stubborn as he was being about it, Aaron was determined to spend the rest of his Saturday night being miserable and alone, though the bartender wasn't so content to allow that.

"[b]Wow![/b] Th-thanks, mister. This is the best tip that I've gotten all day," he was quick to admit, and immediately, remorse washed over his expression, even if Aaron was already gazing off into space, the other direction. "Listen, you look like an [i]early to bed[/i] kinda guy. Would I be wrong about that?"

Taking another sip of his drink, one that he found quite to his liking, Aaron couldn't hear a word that was being said to him.

"Okay, I get it, you're in a bad mood...but sir, you [b]really[/b] need to be in bed before midnight tonight. Just...trust me on this one, okay? It's for the best you head back to your room and get some sleep as soon as you finish that drink."

Trembling and hiding behind his sweating palms, the bartender was shrinking back from the edge of the bar as Aaron stood up from his seat. The bartender thought to stop Aaron and tell him that open, alcoholic drinks weren't allowed outside of the bar space, but he was too nervous to have to explain what might be coming later on, that night.

"...I am [b]so[/b] fired."

**

Dedication to the furry fandom was on the rise, and many people considered it to be a surprising thing. Aaron wasn't one of those, as he saw right through what made the furry fandom so appealing to hotels, businesses and restaurants; the fandom was finally growing up and getting real jobs, which meant that they were becoming a demographic worth appealing to.

There were even furry themed drinks at the bar, but Aaron always avoided them. He felt that they were priced above the range of what they were actually worth, but a Manhattan was always worth the price of the mixture. It was difficult to find a more delicious drink, as far as the man was concerned, and this time, he could taste something a little extra on the back of his tongue; something that he wouldn't have normally asked for, or even expected to be in the drink.

He couldn't put his finger on what it was, as he took his final sips of it and left the empty glass on top of a garbage container, showing utter disdain for the convention itself, and the hotel it was taking place at. He walked through the rotating door in the front of the building and stepped outside, into the brisk, cool air of the evening, content to have a cigar after his drink, but soon, he'd find it rather difficult to hold a cigar properly between his fingertips.

Aaron never heard the warning of the bartender inside. He never even imagined there was something wrong with his drink, or that he was in any kind of danger. He only imagined the satisfaction of that first, fresh puff of leaves and rum as he inhaled a little bit and started his cigar. He took a thick, heavy drag and blew the smoke up into the dark, blue velvet of the night tapestry, and right in the center of it, just above his head, the moon was beaming down on him, shining a light of silver upon the denizens of the convention with such intensity, Aaron was sure that he could feel the reflected particles in the air.

That ethereal glow illuminated the face of his smart phone as he took it out to begin looking for flights to take home, the following day. The clock was sitting at a minute past midnight.

"Huh...why isn't this thing responding?" he asked himself, as he continued to press his index finger on the screen. Confused, he tried his thumb, but again, it seemed that the phone wasn't picking up on the touch of his digits. He pressed harder, until he could nearly feel the screen bending under the weight of his fingertip, but still, the screen didn't respond...and it felt unusually sticky.

Aaron turned his finger back to his face and opened his palm: it was dark, and with a grunt, he dismissed it as a leak in the glass, figuring that some of the Manhattan had been rubbed into a dark, sticky texture on his fingers and palms. It was easy enough to dismiss, until he spit into his palm...and the texture didn't wipe away. Instead, it continued to spread over his palms, until it jumped right over to his left hand, and began to spread there, as well.

Such a shock ran through Aaron that he nearly dropped his phone, but thanks to the sticky resin that was building on his skin, it was slightly easier for him to keep a grip on physical objects. He was beginning to lose the grip on his mind, however, as he was sure that he could actually feel the weight of the moon bearing down on him. He grunted as he headed for the door, but not before glaring up at the moon and yelling at it for daring to infect him with its presence.

"[b][i]AWWOOOOO![/b][/i] he howled out, and immediately, he covered up his face, still holding onto his smart phone. He couldn't have picked a worse place to do such a thing, as fellow furries joined into the howl that he started, while others joked about him getting fined for starting the howl in the first place. The difference, however, was just how sincere and authentic Aaron's howl was, compared to the silly, fake howls of the people around him...they caused his ears a discomfort that he couldn't explain, and he stuffed his phone into his pocket as he went for a walk instead, staying as far away from the convention as possible.

He was lucky to find a small alley behind the parking garage across the street, and he headed right for it as the resin continued to spread over his flesh, until he felt like he'd been dipped into a vat of thick, gooey syrup. Frigid as the air was, he couldn't keep from ripping his coat off and tossing it to the dead, yellowed grass and gazing over his arms: the coating was all over them, and on the back of his hands, thick fur of black was beginning to rise up from flesh as naturally as weeds into a once pure garden.

"T-too much to drink...you've had [b]way[/b] too much to drink, that's all!" Aaron tried to convince himself, as he rolled up his opposite sleeve, just to confirm what he was seeing. There was no avoiding that something unusual was going on, but Aaron stayed in denial for as long as his body would let him...those precious, golden seconds were ticking away as Aaron felt a roar building in his throat once again, and he didn't have the faintest idea why. Hairs were standing up firmly on the back of his neck and growing in, thin at first, until they became thick and wide, spreading across his shoulders.

His shirt was no much for the spreading growth, as the fur pushed up through fabric and continued to grow in, until the muscles underneath adjusted to fit his growing frame. Hunched over in a sudden wrack of pain as his skeletal structure shifted entirely, Aaron fell to his knees as the shirt upon his back began to tear away with a loud, attention-catching [b][i]riiiiip![/b][/i]

The few patrons of the convention nearby who were enjoying an evening smoke were too nervous to approach Aaron as he began to grunt in pain. The sound was clearly one of discomfort, but it wasn't [b]human,[/b] and despite their particular fandom, it wasn't the kind of sound they wanted to investigate. Aaron could see people running off in the distance, and the sound of their shoes clapping down on the concrete was like a series of shotgun blasts to his eardrums, as they tried to adjust to their new sensitivity...and their new location.

"Focus...you're Aaron. You're a h-human being, and you...[i]goddamn that hurts...[/i] you are flying home tomorrow. Stop freaking out!" he tried to convince himself, as he reached up with his hands and tried to stop his ears from traveling up the sides of his head. It was all in vain; his flesh couldn't be stopped, and his hands were no longer so useful for gripping...fur coated every inch of them, and was traveling up his wrists as he tried to stand upright, but found it nigh impossible on his bending, shifting legs. Even if he had the balance, pain kept him pinned to the ground, as the pesky light of the moon danced upon him like a teasing child, taunting him with the knowledge that there was no stopping what had begun.

Aaron wanted to scream out. He wanted to cry for help, but as he tried to open his mouth, he could feel just how much his lips had stretched out from his face. The fur was beginning to spread, as what started as a lazy beard was now covering almost every inch of his face. Neutral eyes took on a bright, devilish glow of gold, and Aaron tried to grit his teeth to deal with the terrible pain of his change, only to find that his teeth no longer sat together properly. Fangs hooked down into his lips and drew a tiny trickle of blood as he tried to adjust, and as much as he could taste the stuff, he could immediately smell it, as well, odd as it was.

Knowing that he was running out of options, Aaron pressed his palms to the ground, trying to use his paws to stand upright. He pushed himself up, and would have fallen back over, if not for the sudden growth of his tailbone, which wiggled about under the last exposed flesh on his body: his lower back. The bone shot out through the flesh and immediately was wrapped within muscle and sinew once again, as fur rushed to cover up the growth...his tail provided that extra bit of balance just in time, in the form of a painful, yet terribly satisfying burst.

As he gazed up to the moon one last time, Aaron let out a heavy sigh and stood up straight and tall. He clenched his paws closed, able to feel the sharp, deadly claws that had formed from his nails, and the slight curve of his legs, covered only with enough tatters to preserve his modesty. His body was surprisingly human for how canine he felt, but there was no denying that he was halfway between worlds, and he couldn't think of a way to cross fully into a new one, or back into the old one.

"Guess there's just one thing left to do," he spoke quietly to himself, able to hear a gruff, rumbling tone in his voice that simply wasn't there before. His tail swayed just a little bit with each step he took, keeping him on balance. His ears flickered to each and every little noise that they could pick up, and his fur of the darkest onyx helped him to blend in with the darkness, save for the pair of glowing, golden orbs that sat above his muzzle.

Aaron ignored the gasps of shock and the compliments people gave to him. The other furries thought it was just an elaborate costume, and he'd likely have to play that card for the rest of his life as he walked up the stairs in the front entrance of the hotel to the bar, immediately taking a seat in front of the bartender who had served him only hours before.

The bartender turned around. "Hello there, how can I help y- [b]ohgod[/b]."

[b][i]Ka-tish![/b][/i] He dropped the glass that he was wiping to the floor, and it shattered as his arms went limp and fell to his sides. He didn't think that he'd have to answer for his crimes so soon, but his beast of burden was sitting at the bar in front of him, staring him down and leaving him no place to run.

"I'll have another Manhattan, young man...and as a tip, I [b]won't[/b] rip your throat out in front of all of these people."