"Oh, sure. Me too," Ernest agreed, with a sly smile and a conspiratorial wink. Hemingway was clearly presenting himself as a bohemian, if one were being generous, and a drunk, if one were not.
"A professional what?" he asked him pointedly, then got up to grab a bottle of decent looking bourbon for the man, and a fine cut crystal glass, because he looked the sort that was used to it. "I guess someone already explained the everything's free part, at least?" he checked as he poured it out in a decent measure, and slid the glass across the bar towards him. He screwed the top, and left the bottle on the bar for self-service from there on in.