You find yourself hunched over a glass of cheap liquor in a jazz bar located a few blocks down from your dorm room. What better way did you have to spend your time?

“You’re a bit young to be drinking yourself to death, hm, darling?”

A man that must be in his fifty’s sits down across from you. He has dark hair, not quite curly but just about, with graying sides. His bangs fall across his deep eyes and smile lines and wrinkles which could only come from age intrigue you further.