[ He isn’t looking for company. This isn’t a surprise to his colleagues; Professor Screwllum, in fact, had gone on record stating that he’s surprised Ratio had even accepted his tenureship at all, what with how he seemed to hate his students and teaching even more so. But Veritas has never hated anyone, not really. He just cannot and will not abide idiocy — indeed, the dissertation he’d written for his fifth doctorate had been titled ‘How to Cure Idiocy; A Look into Literacy and the Media We Consume’. He’d come down hard on the rise of social media, not because he felt the people who used such things were vapid, but because the rampant misinformation and the public’s general indifference to researching that misinformation was much easier now that just anyone can make a TickTock or post on GhostlyGrove. And he cannot abide those content to languish in their ignorance. He decided to teach to attempt to give give people the tools needed to pull themselves out of that pit.
It isn’t his fault if they choose not to.
No, he just wants to sip his whiskey and do his best to ignore the chatter around him, using his phone to tick off his to-do list for the next morning. He has his early morning class at 9, time in between that and his freshman economics class at 11. Then he’s taking the rest of the day to work on his research for the rebuttal paper he’s writing against Ruan Mei and her proposal for creating new life. It’s shaping up to be a busy day, and distractions aren’t what he needs right now.
What he does need right now is to pay his tab and smoke before heading back to his apartment. He tosses the cash onto the bar and thanks the bartender, slipping out the door and leaning against the alley wall, out of the way of any people. He’s half shadowed in the streetlight, the soft puff of his zippo almost lost in the din of the crowded sidewalks and distant honking. He’s two drags in when he hears the sound of someone approaching, and he pretends like he doesn’t until the person speaks to him, a voice that reminds him somehow of rich chocolate cake. The other man is asking for a light and Ratio’s gaze is drawn to his waist and abs — muscled, but not too defined. His face isn’t bad to look at either, framed by bright blonde hair and eyes—
Well. And here Ratio had thought the Avgin were wiped out. He pauses, considering his options, and finally errs on the side of intrigue. He doesn’t answer verbally, instead bringing his zippo up, lighting the man’s cigarette and closing the zippo all in two fluid flicks of his wrist. He lingers, for a moment, dropping the lighter back into the breast pocket of his shirt. ]
no subject
It isn’t his fault if they choose not to.
No, he just wants to sip his whiskey and do his best to ignore the chatter around him, using his phone to tick off his to-do list for the next morning. He has his early morning class at 9, time in between that and his freshman economics class at 11. Then he’s taking the rest of the day to work on his research for the rebuttal paper he’s writing against Ruan Mei and her proposal for creating new life. It’s shaping up to be a busy day, and distractions aren’t what he needs right now.
What he does need right now is to pay his tab and smoke before heading back to his apartment. He tosses the cash onto the bar and thanks the bartender, slipping out the door and leaning against the alley wall, out of the way of any people. He’s half shadowed in the streetlight, the soft puff of his zippo almost lost in the din of the crowded sidewalks and distant honking. He’s two drags in when he hears the sound of someone approaching, and he pretends like he doesn’t until the person speaks to him, a voice that reminds him somehow of rich chocolate cake. The other man is asking for a light and Ratio’s gaze is drawn to his waist and abs — muscled, but not too defined. His face isn’t bad to look at either, framed by bright blonde hair and eyes—
Well. And here Ratio had thought the Avgin were wiped out. He pauses, considering his options, and finally errs on the side of intrigue. He doesn’t answer verbally, instead bringing his zippo up, lighting the man’s cigarette and closing the zippo all in two fluid flicks of his wrist. He lingers, for a moment, dropping the lighter back into the breast pocket of his shirt. ]
There are more people out front, you know.