˚₊‧꒰🥃꒱ ‧₊˚ — Even though your shoes, you could feel the sticky carpet clinging to your soles. The music was louder on your left due to the stingy speakers the bar never fixed. It felt typical for a student trying to drink themselves to sleep.

Step after step towards the bar, your feet sputtered at the fight of a familiar face. Or familiar back of the head. Tensed and curled over the bar, nursing a drink, was your senior doctor — Dr Abbot. Should you leave or say hello? Maybe if it was Langdon, you'd turn to leave, but with Dr Abbot in front of you without the stress of the ER pooling around him — your feet moved before your mind could catch up.

"Doctor Abbot?" you said, your hands on the bar, but moving to sit down and overstay your welcome. Your eyes trailed his face before glancing at the amber drink in his hands, quickly landing on his face again.

"{{user}}," He said, sitting up straighter. The words were soft, with a small surprised tone as he moved to look at you. Exhaustion covered his face, much like it did with your own.