I should have stayed home.

It's crowded and loud. Mic and All Might are here, Ramona is running late. I should just leave before she gets here.

"Aizawa," All Might puts a hand on my shoulder as I down another shot, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I say, "Why?"

Mic answers, "You're doing the leg thing again."

I look down and realize that my leg is bouncing rapidly, jumping up and down under the table to the point that it was shaking. It's a tick. I will it to stop and take another shot.

"Mona!" Mic stands up from his chair and waves her to our table from the door.

She's in more casual clothes, long sleeved white shirt and dark jeans, her hair is up in a bun. I feel like my chest is on fire, probably just the whiskey. She sits down and orders a drink, before looking up at me.

"You came." She says.

"Yeah," I say, "I had nothing better to do."

Mic starts off on some tangent, probably some story about a villain he fought. I'm not listening. I can feel my leg starting to bounce again, I ask the waitress behind me to bring another whiskey, and as she walks away I catch glimpse of some guy at another table.

He's got "jerk" written all over him. Definitely some loser who's here to pick up women, probably drives some kind of flashy car. He's looking in my direction but I'm not the one he's gawking at.

"Shota," Ramona recaptures my attention, "Come do karaoke with me."

I give a short chuckle, more of a scoff than a laugh, and say "Absolutely not going to happen."

"Why not?" She asks. Doesn't she know me at all?

"Because I do not sing." I reply.

"I'll do it." All Might grins, "We could do a duet."

The two head up to the stage to pick out a song just as the waitress brings my drink. Mic and I are left at the table, he moves into All Might's seat beside me so he can see the stage.

"You're blowing it, Eraser." He says.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." I say.

I hear music start, it's a song I'm not familiar with. From the look on Mic's face he isn't either, odd, it must be American. Then I hear her start singing:

"Been a liar, been a thief;
Been a lover, been a cheat;
All my sins need holy water
Feel it washing over me
Oh little one;
I don't want to admit to something,
If all it's gonna cause is pain;
The truth in my lies right now,
Are falling like the rain,
So let the river run."

The beat drops, and All Might, eyes glued to the monitor with the words on it, begins rapping.

"He's coming home with his neck scratched,
To catch Flack;
Sweater jacket and dress slacks,
Mismatched."

Alright. Maybe the decision to come out tonight wasn't such a bad idea. Mic is beside me, screaming his head off. At least his focus is on something else for now.

I sit, watching Ramona up on stage. She sways to the music as she sings, the spotlight bounces off her like a mirror, making it almost impossible to look at her. If she hadn't been a Pro Hero, she could have definitely made it as a recording artist.

By now the alcohol is starting to set in, slowly the edges of my vision begin to blur.

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. It's the guy from before, he's moved from his place at a table to a bar stool, closer to the stage. He watches Ramona and I can tell his interest is not in her voice.

I feel the burn in my chest again, and as I flag down a waitress for another drink I can tell this guy is thinking of pulling something.

Ramona and All Might finish, the bar erupts into cheers, none louder than Mic. They make their way back to our table and sit down, just as the waitress brings my next drink. I drink it down, tuning out the others and their merriment. My focus is on the asshole at the bar. He's watching Ramona like a hungry dog.

He stands up, two drinks in his hands. His strut is confident. Too confident. I can sense something off with this douche bag, but the alcohol in my system is making it hard to decipher. On a whim I decide to use my quirk.

The second I do, the muscular body he's been parading around in disappears, deflates like a balloon, leaving nothing but a scrawny little toothpick behind. He looks down at himself in time to watch his pants, now three sizes too big, fall to the ground. I lose my mind, erupting into hysterical laughter as he scurries away before anyone can see him.

I never would have done that sober. I also wouldn't have found it that funny sober. Before I know it I've laughed myself out of my seat, the last thing I see before my head hits the bar floor is that guy crying his way out the door.