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A soft warmth wrapped around his arm, with an extra little spot pressing higher up his bicep. Looking down, he was greeted by the gentle eyes of his arm's "captor": the adorable Levy McGarden (just don't tell her he mentally called her that). She was cuddling into his arm as they waited in the concessions line.
It was all a welcome contrast to the pit in his stomach.
Although he loathed the thought of being nervous in general, he would've preferred first date jitters rather than encroaching dread he was feeling. There was nothing obviously wrong to warrant this level of anxiety. He liked Levy - a lot, very much! This was a simple movie date with a safe pick for a film. How could anything go wrong with that set-up? Sure, they had gotten off on the wrong foot, but there was no reason Levy would have agreed to this date if she was harboring any other thoughts.
Old instincts kicked in - or maybe, they already had been. The next layer to analyze, if it wasn't Levy or the situation, was his surroundings. It wasn't late in the evening, but it was about to go dark outside in another few minutes. This place was an average theater establishment - one he went to multiple times already, by himself and in other groups, so he was already familiar with its atmosphere. Just because it was a quaint place didn't mean anything couldn’t suddenly happen, though...
Finally, his consciousness caught up with what his subconscious had pinpointed. Glaring eyes, hardened with something more than just a stranger's neutrality or a zoned out gaze. As soon as his half-disguised surveying caught it - the image popping into his mind seconds after his head had already turned away - he was no longer oblivious to the metaphorical laser on the back of his head.
Gajeel couldn't look back a second time, though. There was no way whoever it was didn't catch Gajeel catching them. If he did it again, the stranger would definitely know Gajeel was alerted. He didn't think they would try anything with such a crowd around; he was more worried about them trying to vacate before Gajeel could figure out who the fuck they were and guesstimate what the hell they wanted.
All he had was an afterimage - one his imperfect, gum-and-shoe-string human brain was already mucking up. He definitely remembered the eyes - that he was certain on. Blue color, sharp around the edges, noticeable black border around them. (Eyebags? Mascara?) Anything else, he would start to second guess himself, making the picture morph in his mind. He thought maybe the figure was on the taller, bulkier side, but maybe that was just his nerves regarding getting stalked. Might be male, but he could just be making assumptions. He didn't think it was anyone he knew... But maybe they were just in disguise?
Finally, he and Levy were at the concessions desk. While Levy started ordering popcorn and drinks, he scanned ahead for any reflective surfaces. Nothing. Dammit, if he wanted another peek, he'd have to do it himself.
"Do you want chocolate, gummies, or sour candy?" He struck down the urge to use him turning his head towards her as an opportunity. This close up, she'd catch his eyes trailing to the side, and then they'd really be in trouble.
"Don't got a preference," he answered, half-honestly. If he was in a better position to think it through, he could probably pick one, but now was not the time.
"Then I'll just pay one of each and we can split." He was the one who bought the tickets and footed the bill for the main course. It'd be the gentlemanly thing to pay for the candy, too, but he caught on to why she offered. Due to past experiences, he could be antsy when it came to dropping a lot of cash in just one day. And he swore, this theater was catering to rich people!
Another minute later, they were walking towards the soda machines. From a cursory glance, it'd look like Gajeel was just looking ahead, keeping up with Levy. But he finally took his chance to tilt his head slightly to the side, to get a better glimpse at this half of the lobby - the direction he found the glaring stalker from. Several minutes had passed since he first caught sight, so he was a bit worried that they had moved or even left completely.
Then he saw it. A darker man, taller than him - darker skin, darker clothes, darker hair color (although lighter than Gajeel's). He loitered around one of the promotional cutouts; in fact, it was like he was using it as a shield from most people's eyes. Yet he seemed to peek out enough to glare in Gajeel's direction specifically. No, that positioning was definitely on purpose. Because their eyes met just before Gajeel could cover his tracks and look away. Instead, the stranger made the first move, going diagonally across the lobby and towards the opposing hallway. Baggy clothing fluttered from his stride - or was that something like a cloak? Needless to say, Gajeel would sooner accept a flat Earth than the idea that that guy was a normal moviegoer.
Yet, he recalled that dumb fucking trend his "family friends" had dragged him to last summer - the one with the biopic and the chick flick, with the black and pink outfits (they at least relented in that he'd go in his usual look, not pastel). But if it was something like that, there'd definitely be more people in the lobby following the dress code. If only he had taken a better look at tonight's showings; if there was anything horror or thriller playing, he could just tell himself the stranger was some unhinged emo being freaky before their movie or an ironically shy punk waiting for the rest of their group to show up and bailing at the first sign of an awkward social interaction.
But there was just something he couldn't shake about that look he was getting from the guy. Was it a resting bitch face? Gajeel could relate to his natural appearance being constantly misinterpreted as fury or hatred. But what if that wasn't the case? He and the Phantom Lords had made enemies in the past... He would love to put that behind him, but did everyone else in the world put it behind them?
Levy had. That was in his top five reasons his iron heart was fluttering for her, somewhere behind "her brains" and "her smile". Shit, if this guy wanted to cause trouble with him, there was no way he could let Levy get caught in crossfire. It was too late to make it look like they weren't together - they'd been glued to each other since walking in, and that guy had definitely seen her all over him. He'd have to get this sorted out - go on the attack first - with Levy far away from the confrontation.
Gajeel waited until they had reached their seats in the theater. It gave the (still just potential) stalker a considerable head start, but he'd feel too bad about making Levy carry everything while he bailed - especially if this turned out to be a false alarm.
Putting his drink in the coaster and the popcorn bucket in Levy's lap, he bent down and said, "Gonna take care of business while the pre-show's running."
Thank god for polite ways to rephrase taking a piss, because now he didn't feel too much of a liar for saying that.
With no fight from Levy - because why would she think he was up to something - he only leveled up into a speed walk after he had exited back into the halls. Passing the closest bathrooms, he maneuvered the now doubled crowd in the lobby - folks without Levy's brain, which knew to arrive extra early. Now Gajeel had a new reason to be thanking her foresight.
Once he reached the opposing hallway, another fact started to sink in. Where did he go from here? He only watched the guy go in this direction, but he didn't know where he ended up. If this was a true moviegoer, then it would be one of the theaters, but it wasn't like he could go around checking each and every one. So he decided that if the stranger wasn't in the bathroom or the hall, then he was somewhere Gajeel couldn't check, which (hopefully) meant it was no longer Gajeel's problem.
"I see you haven't lost your edge..."
At the dead end of the hall, there the hooded guy stood - leaning his back against the wall, arms crossed, head down.
Until he brought it up to finish his greeting to Gajeel. "...little phantom."
Tensing, Gajeel muttered just audibly enough, "That's in the past. So if you're some undercover cop or detective, you can get off my case."
The entire time, in spite of the subtly smug tone of voice, the stranger remained stoic in gaze and posture. When Gajeel expected the act to be dropped, it only continued.
"I'm not. That's not actually where my interest lies." This time, he straightened out his body, separating from the wall but not taking any steps forward. "You're Metalicana's brat, aren't you? Your eyes are the same."
That's the last twist Gajeel was expecting. Almost two decades now since his old man kicked the bucket and barely a single person had approached him about. The few ones who did, that was not long after it happened, with no new faces showing up for years. And this guy...
"What's it to you?" Gajeel demanded. Somehow, the thought that this stranger knew his dad - knew his callsign - only put him further on guard.
"I was the medic."
Ah. Now that finally put Gajeel at ease. He remembered that war story, the one from right before Metalicana left the air for good... When the old man and his buddies got caught behind enemy lines, they rescued an enemy medic from a sticky situation, with the meek thing staying by their side even after they returned to the larger forces. But Metalicana never gave a proper ending to that story. From brief discussions about that story with the other survivors' kids, it seemed he wasn't the only one - and that it might've been on purpose. Unfortunately, he saw no way to get the truth, once all those involved had died. He made the assumption the medic had either died or was MIA. Some cynical part of him, once he'd grown up, figured the reason for the secrecy was to hide a darker ending. Just because the medic honored the truce and even seemingly was mistreated by his own allies... That didn't mean the higher command would accept his presence, or show him sympathy.
Maybe that was why Metalicana and the other four suddenly went for the domestic life. Maybe they knew what his fate ended up being... or maybe they didn't, and hated that they didn't.
Now that mythological figure was standing before him. Not a meek, sweet doctor, though... This guy looked like he ate more nails for breakfast than Metalicana did. Then again, it had been a long time, and war could change people.
Especially when the implication that things didn't end peachy was involved.
Perhaps he shouldn't have eased up so quickly? People who knew Metalicana called Gajeel "his brat" out of affection, but...
"You're pretty late." After debating all his possible options for a response, he concluded on that one. "He's long dead. Funeral was years ago."
"I know." It was solemn, but Gajeel for some reason didn't feel like it was grieving either. But he had a hard time with grieving, too. Couldn't this guy give away just a bit more for him to go off of?!
"I just wanted to confirm," the man continued, before one foot went ahead of the other. Gajeel stood his ground as he made his approach, but he only paused for a moment. "You have something more important to get to, don't you?"
Staring at his covered up back, Gajeel watched him disappear around the corner, allowing a distance to grow between them before he finally departed himself. What a weird way to give condolences. Bastard didn't even share his name.
That's what he told himself on the way back to Levy. The stranger was right - he had better things to do. Better things than to hyper-analyze his speech and movements. Better things than to speculate what happened these last decades. That itch in the back of his mind... It was just a remnant of an edgier man he was trying to kill off for good, with this cheesy movie date as the wooden stake.
A little lean from Levy's head, a wrapping of her body around his lounging arm, and Gajeel finally let himself enjoy the night.
Back on the increasingly chillier streets, a man in a hoodie baggy enough to be mistaken as a cape walked to nowhere in particular. The only name he remembered - a name that didn't belong to anyone else, that is - was Acnologia... but it wasn't like he could go around calling himself that.
Never knew who was "in the know". And how much they did know.
That young man seemed to recognize what the phrase "the medic" meant, yet he had seemingly lost all his trepidation when it was said. Was Acnologia not the only one who had been played? By those despicable "dragons"?
It wouldn't have been smart to linger around their funeral proceedings - cops and officials on high alert and all that - but maybe he should have gone for it. Now he could only locate these children of traitors through chance encounters. If the Phantom Lord gang scandal hadn't gotten as big as it had, he would have never spotted that face on TV. He doubted any of the others would reach that level of "fame". But if they remained as close as the "dragons" had been...
Maybe if he stayed around this one long enough, he'd find them all.