Who: Israel Santino, OT Raksha What: Getting a drink. And trying not to plot the downfall of one of his students... When: Around 10:30 pm Where: Starts at his apartment, moves to a walk, and then Illusion Rating: It's Izzy. At a bar. I'm thinking it won't be overly low... Status: Incomplete (Edited & reposted, 3-22-08; 19:02 hours PST)
If there was one thing Izzy had learned about this year's students...it was that Joan, the little brunette in the front seat, was irritating as all hell. She corrected him about the slightest things, like incorrect spelling, partially erased words because his sleeve had accidentally brushed against them when he'd been writing... She also whined about the temperature, kept as warm as possible so he wouldn't freeze to death trying to teach his class.
He really needed a stiff drink. He knew it was only Wednesday. He knew he should really wait until Friday...but damnit, he was feeling irritated. He wanted to go do something, and he didn't have any papers to grade. His grandfather was out of town, he didn't usually spend time with his coworkers, and he didn't want to bother Andi or Aidrian, and he was fairly sure Raksha was working.
And it wasn't like he could just drift off to sleep and spend all night doing that. No, he was an insomniac and he couldn't sleep well, even when he was warm and had someone there with him to help him relax. He crossed his arms and stared out his window. It was dark already. He hadn't realized the time.
Izzy rubbed a hand over his jaw, staring out at the twinkling lights. The skyline was one he stared at almost every night, usually in conjunction with a cup of hot tea (a drink he hated, but unfortunately had to drink as his grandfather would shove it down his throat in any event) and an attempt to fall asleep. There was very little to do, he realized, in an apartment where the only books were the written philosophies of significant philosophes, and he'd read them all at least twice. That left him to getting a drink, which would require him leaving the apartment.
Ignoring the fact that he'd probably want to stab himself in the morning, and might well snap at his students, he went to his closet and pulled out an old leather jacket beginning to show the wear-and-tear of several years of use, and not all of them gentle. He slid into it, adjusting the collar slightly. He pulled his keys over to his pocket using his secondary mutant ability. He clicked the closet door shut and checked his back pocket for his wallet before walking to the door, where he did a mental check to be sure he'd left his stove and oven off, as well as all of his lights. Satisfied, he left the apartment, locking it behind him.
He even managed to make it out of the apartment altogether without even having to speak to his neighbors, which was quite a feat. His neighbors across the hall were convinced he was an angel, because he taught ethics. His neighbors to either side were all older, and had a tendency to try and butt into his love life. He hated that, especially considering he was a hundred percent sure they'd flip if they knew where he was headed.
Walking down the street, Izzy shivered. At around fifty-three degrees, it wasn't really as cold as it could have been. But he felt frozen to the bone, and he couldn't wait to get inside. Lots of bodies, many overheated, and something alcoholic to drink, and he might actually be semi-warm. Might being the key term, there.
Turning a few corners, he wandered for a little while before coming to a familiar night club. Illusion. Raksha worked there, Izzy knew from having been there several times. So did Aidrian, but although they tolerated each other and even treated each other as friends, he wouldn't visit a night club just to see Aidrian. If Raksha was working, Izzy didn't want to bother him. But then again...he really needed that drink.
He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face before making his decision and stepping towards the club.