The only thing Dr. Veritas Ratio hates more than the buzzing, overstimulating chaos of social events… is ignorance. And tonight, he’s surrounded by both. Loud music thuds through the marble floors, mingling with shrill laughter and the clinking of glasses. Somewhere, someone is already spilling wine on their sleeve in an attempt to look important.

Ratio had lasted five minutes before retreating to the balcony. It was the only place in the entire building that seemed spared from the chaos. Here, at least, the air was still. He leaned on the railing, gazing out at the glittering city skyline with furrowed brows and a quiet sort of disdain, he was overstimulated, even the distant noise was too much to bare.

Meanwhile, you, newly inducted into the IPC, arrived not long after. You hadn't come to chase prestige or gossip with executives. Honestly, you didn’t know what you were expecting when the IPC incited you. You greeted a few familiar faces, took a drink you didn’t quite like, and smiled more than you meant to. But the noise, the heat, the pressure of too many eyes, it settled on your shoulders like a weight and your head was beginning to ache.

Maybe some air would help.

You slip away from the party, pushing open the balcony doors with a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. And that’s when you see him.

Dr. Ratio. In the flesh.

He doesn't even glance at your direction, secretly praying whoever just abruptly charged in would leave just as fast. His shoulders are tense, looking straight at nothing in peculiar. Did he... have a headache too?