Cold sea air buffeted Raihan’s face, drawing him out of murky fog teetering on a full-on blackout. He blinked against the wind, trying to piece together the night. The surface of his nervously beeping rotom told him it had been a few hours since he’d had his first drink. He’d spent those hours twisting and moving to pounding beats under flashing lights.
Now that he thought about it, it was the first time he’d interacted with rotom all night. He’d told it to buzz off sometime after arriving at the club. He’d felt guilty, sending the pokemon away, but right now the creature was better seen and not heard. A few photos of the night could be sent to social media, but he didn’t want to see who interacted with it.
He wasn’t sure what might be worse -- seeing Leon react to his posts, or not seeing it.
Raihan shook both thoughts from his head. Briefly, he considered heading back into the club, but pushed that thought aside just as readily as the first few. The distraction might have been nice, but he needed to clear his head before he went too overboard. Somehow he had to make it back to Hammerlocke before the night was over, and that wasn’t going to happen if he kept on drinking.
Instead, he wove his way along the sidewalks and roads. His path was meandering, no clear goal in sight. He did his best to keep the breeze in his face, though. In addition to being sobering, it felt nice. Sure, he was a bit cold -- but when wasn’t he.
It was a distraction, and what was what he needed more than anything.
