[color=limegreen][h2][center]Jacob ‘Jake’ Sharner[/center][/h2][/color]

[color=limegreen]“Ahh!”[/color]
Jake hissed with frustration as the miniature screw he was holding on his finger fell off onto the ceramic tile floor under the table with a barely audible clack. This was not the first time. Cursing his own clumsiness, he got off his chair and crouched down to retrieve it, holding it between two fingers now. However, he rose too quick and promptly banged his head in the table. His eyes almost welled up in tears, not from the pain, but the sinking knowledge that all the parts and components above that he spent several minutes carefully organising before he got to work have just been dislodged into an unsortable mess. He curled up into a ball under the table and took a few seconds to console his little heartbreak.

When he finally got up again, shaking his head, he did not even inspect the scene he caused on his workbench. Instead, he took a look at the digital clock that stood in the top left corner of the table—the large red numbers spelled 22:47.

[color=limegreen]“Huh.”[/color]

This mistake and a couple others before ensured the scientist that he was no longer fit for precision work at this moment of time. He took a glance back at his inviting bed, considering his options, but he was almost certain he would not be able to sleep. The jitters were too great within him still, not to mention he felt...somewhat incomplete too. Usually, his head was filled with thoughts until the moment he fell asleep. Today, there was no such thing—no anxiety about continuing the project tomorrow, no ideas flowing. And the speech, however stressing it was, [i]was[/i] still a while away. He had to do something else to compensate. Something like...

[color=limegreen]“Going out?”[/color]

Jake gave the idea a good hard thought. He was usually simply too occupied to seek out any kind of entertaining activities, but he knew well how frenzying the guise of the dark was to many of Shine City's denizens. He was sure to find an interesting time out there wherever he went—which would have presented him with just the challenge he needed experience with solving if he wanted to do well at the event in the museum. If he was forced to step out of his comfort zone eventually anyway, why couldn't he get some practice beforehand?
There, it was decided. Jake headed for the door with determination—he was going to do something different tonight.

[color=limegreen]“Wait a second.”[/color]

He froze with his hand already on the handle of the door. Things were not simple, he reminded himself. He could not just go out into the crowd in his usual outfit after a hard day's work without appropriately preparing for it first. He turned his eyes towards the bathroom which opened right from his cluttered bedroom.

[color=limegreen]“Yeah... This'll be a good first step.”[/color]

Clean and refreshed, the scientist emerged from the shower—being careful not to slip like that one day which almost ended with a trip to the hospital—, dressed up in his favourite set of formal clothes that he prepared on the handle just besides him and assessed himself in the mirror. Something was...not right, he quickly figured out. The suit looked good on him, no doubt, so did the matching shirt and tie. This has been his ace wear, he could pull it out at any time for any situation and it would undoubtedly be winsome. Yet...for perhaps the first time, he was not satisfied with his look. It was...too normal. Yes, he thought, he needed to mix it up for once!

Rushing back to the wardrobe—and almost slipping again on the wet floor despite swearing to pay attention every time—, he started flipping through his clothes.
[color=limegreen]“Nope, nope, nope...”[/color]
He soon realised that things did not look as hopeful as he had wanted them to be. All he seemingly had were suit sets and green apparel. He learned way back then that shades of a matching colour put together gave a fashionable outfit, so he went with clothing that fit his hair colour to always look as best as possible. As the years went past, this theory started sounding less and less good in his head though...
After some dilemma, he ended up with a plain khaki shirt and jeans which were, Jake thanked God, [i]blue.[/i] He liked his reflection in the mirror better like this, even though he was almost certain he could have picked out a more fitting pair of clothes. Yet still, it was something rare for him, something different...and that was the name of the game tonight!

Jake headed for the apartment garage. Usually he took public transport, but the timetable was not that great at the nighttime. Besides, he was aiming to be as ‘abnormal’ as he possibly could. He had a driving license [i]and[/i] a car too, albeit he rarely drove it: it was a black and grey [url=https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/ab/Smart-ForTwo.jpg]Smart Fortwo[/url], an aptly named very small city car for two people. The scientist bought it right before he moved to Shine City, having negotiated a small sum of ‘pre-payment’ from the Institute in exchange for his services (and a month's wage). He turned the ignition key, switched the radio station, revved the engine and off he went into the bright lights, big city.

Only once he was comfortably on the road and driving towards the heart of Shine City from the outskirts where the Institute and his apartment were located, did he start to actually think about where he was going. The radio was blasting [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lkvScx3Po8I]some chill rock[/url]—not quite Jake's type, but it did help setting some atmosphere. He slowed down a bit once he got to the city centre, making sure to check out every instalment there was. Finally, he stumbled upon a building that, even on the surface, drew eyes to it as much as light drew insects—[b]Club LUSH.[/b]

[color=limegreen]“Do I really want to do this...?”[/color] he murmured to himself as he parked down in front of the club, pressing the small car into a space that would be unfit for most others. Like his every other warning and cautious thought tonight, he dismissed this one as well in the same spirit. [i]‘Bring on the challenge!’[/i]

He reached for the ID cards in his pocket as soon as he got out of the car—unlike many other things, he never forgot to carry his documents with him, for he needed them far more often than most other people of his age. Many did not believe he was more than 16, let alone actually a decade older. It was as much of an everyday struggle for him as getting out of bed was for others—he has never had problems with waking—and this case was no different. The bouncers argued about him for some time, but eventually let him in when the people behind the scientist started to loudly complain about the queue not moving forward.

With a little luck on his side, the ‘challenger’ was now met with the first obstacle as the thumping beat hit him like a hammer. Then, an inebriated gentleman—Jake would have argued the accurate scientific term was actually ‘shitfaced asshole’—[i]also[/i] hit him like a hammer, accidentally ramming into the small man in his blurry daze. It hurt, but his spirit was hurt even more: how was he going to survive, much less enjoy an entire night here?

Learning from the accident, he stuck to the side of the bar and eventually sat down at a bar counter. Arms laid on the table and head fixed downwards, he was thinking on how to progress from here. Thinking until he was snapped out by the sound of a glass sliding towards him. It had something in it too. Jake looked at the glass, then at the bartender, confused.
“Drink this,” the latter grunted at him.
[color=limegreen]“W-why exactly?”[/color]
“It'll help you get up to speed...and up to mood.”
[color=limegreen]“I'm sorry sir, but we do know each other?”[/color] The bartender spoke like he knew exactly what was best for the scientist. Yet, even after a good hard look, Jake could say with good confidence that the man was [i]not[/i] his father.
“I don't know people, I know types. You're the miserable type.”
[color=limegreen]“Thanks.”[/color] Jake shrugged.
“Don't worry—no type is hopeless. We measure the solutions in alcohol around here and I mixed you something that has [i]just[/i] the right amount.”
[color=limegreen]“That is...?”[/color] he asked, adjusting his glasses and looking at the drink again.
“Take it slowly.”
And with that final bit of advice, the bartender turned away to handle the other guests.

Jake played around with the glass for some time more, unable to make up his mind. If his intuitions were even slightly correct, the mixture could very well also get him into the ‘inebriated gentleman’ state, something he wanted to avoid at all costs. On the other hand, he could just not get himself to stand up and get on the dancefloor. His attention was all over the place and he certainly did not want to make an embarrassment out of himself by trying to dance in such state. Alcohol could not teach him how to dance, but it could surely take out the ‘embarrassment’ part...
[color=limegreen]“If you went this far, might as well go all the way...”[/color] he muttered and finally took a small sip.

[color=limegreen]“Oh god.”[/color]

[i]He had mere seconds to live. Someone, call an ambulance! Before he turned off the barstool and puked until he choked to death on it. But alas, in a club no one could hear you scream internally. This was it, this was the end of the promising life and future of Jacob Sharner, let his gravestone be marked with ‘died from a couple millilitres of alcohol’ to warn the people of the dangers of hedonism! How, oh how could he fall to an evil barkeeper and his poison?![/i]

————

Everything was black. Well, for the flash of a moment, at least, as he blinked. He drank a little more, then slowly got off the barstool, taking a couple deep breaths.
[color=limegreen]“Well...I guess...I guess I'm now ready...”[/color] He felt...interesting. The sounds were louder—albeit a little flurried—, the colours were prettier...and that dancefloor looked a hell of a lot more inviting. Was this his drunk state? He would not have called it that. He stuck with ‘interesting’. Which was the whole point of tonight, was it not?

He headed for the crowd.