Seth peered up from underneath his bangs and caught the sight of somebody eerily familiar perched on the barstool not too far from him. And just like that, suddenly, he felt like talking. Which was weird, because he never felt like talking, not even when Marley pushing him toward it. On the other hand, she was usually pushing him not to talk to her, but some stranger with a clipboard and a leather chair. Seth had tried that once, privately, just wondering if she was right about this, and she usually was right about everything. But the shrink freaked him out too much, so he never went back.
Picking up his bottle, Seth made his way over to the slumped figure and sat down. The bartender, a large man with a thick mustache, immediately came around, dish towel in one hand and face full of frown, "Another," he held up his Russian whisky bottle and watched as the large man ambled away to the cabinet.
"Prof?" He asked, wondering why he felt hesitant. He never was in while in school. Always the first to call out in class, crack a joke of some kind, get on his nerves.