Ian Cross in the Third Person

Look at how he walks in his business suit, aviator sunglasses on. Oh look, he pulled out his gigantic smart phone, texting someone cause he can’t bother to wait to get to where he is going. He stops suddenly to fist-bump and chat with some athlete; I guess he must be pretty big socialite if he knows athletes. He’s finally approaching the Evans crosswalk; some of those activists are standing on the corner. What does he do? He pulls out his phone, pretends to have a conversation, and walks past them without making eye contact, with an air that dares them to interrupt his imaginary conversation. Across the street his head jerks suddenly to the right as he notices someone. However, he immediately looks the other way, an old flame perhaps?
Upon entering the business school he doesn’t even take his aviators off, is it that bright inside?! Without hesitation he heads right to the café, despite the fact class had already started. “One black coffee” he says, in a hoarse monotone. He pays for his $1.79 coffee with a credit card and proceeds to dump four packs of the “organic” sugar so he can pretend to be healthy. Still ignoring the glaringly obvious fact that he is late, he heads to the free newspaper bin to grab a New York Times. He only does this on Wednesday and Thursday because he feels the Monday and Tuesday versions are beneath his crossword abilities. Stowing that in his backpack he makes his way to the elevator, his class is on the third floor! Grimacing at his coffee, as if he didn’t specifically ask for a bitter cup, he walks into the class to the glare of his teacher. Without meeting her eyes, he sits down.