He glanced at his schedule, - Tutoring, Introduction to Philosophy, and sighed shaking his head. Some freshmen probably, who didn’t pay attention to a damned thing, and now he’d have to try and beat it into their heads.
He flipped out his notes on the intro classes and set them on the desk, setting up a new document in his cheep-end, if somewhat abused laptop so he could set up notes on the parts they weren’t getting, though lord only knew that if it was anything like his last session it would be ‘all of it.’

He super needed a coffee, or an energy drink or…  just something. He was too damned tired. At least this was his last scheduled tutoring for the day; he could get something to wake him up before he picked up a shift at his other job.

They were well into the semester: by this point, students were either sinking or swimming. This *particular* student wasn't some dumb freshman but instead looked in his mid twenties. Zac would maybe recognize him: he'd come to class once or twice, at most, and in the past he'd been there in expensive clothes, with perfect hair.

Today was different. As he rolled into his tutoring section a good half an hour later, it looked like Beau was still in his pajamas, even down to the slippers. His hair was lank and loose around his face, and his eyes looked a little bit sunken, tired. His attention raked around the room instead of settling right onto Zac.

He did a double take at the Pajamas, his face a grim line as he looked down to find slippers to boot, and sighed.
Not a freshmen, but clearly, lacking in any kind of give a damn. This was going to be ‘great’.

He sighed, not even trying to hide the vague level of consternation.
“… Intro to Philosophy tutoring?” He offered, so many were ‘unsure’ if they were in the right room, or had ‘lost’ the room number and so on, and so forth.

He leaned back and rubbed at his eyes, at least he was less worried now that he probably looked like he hadn’t slept recently. Hell, he probably looked more like a freshman because of that.

“Have a seat.” He waved to the chair across from him trying not to let the idea of ‘how nice pajamas’ would be just at the moment sink in enough to trigger a yawn.

A couple days since he shaved, too; he scratched at his jaw as he sad down opposite Zac and finally really looked at him. His voice went wry, maybe a bit mocking. "Who'd you piss off to land this?"

"... I get paid to do this, I didn't piss off anyone." He shook his head, making a small face at the idea that he'd pissed someone off. "So... what is it that isn't making sense in class?"  He swapped directly to the more 'comfortable' subject of class work. Class work was much more structured than people, in so far as the information went at least. Presenting it so that the professors approved was sometimes the trick that had to be battled but that was all.

He blew a breath out through his nose and his attention wandered around the room again. Idly, Beau scratched at the inside of one wrist, where ink curled out from the hem of his shirt. "It's not that it doesn't make sense so much as it's really boring."

A small, croaking sound escaped the tired tutor. "....I... w... you're here to be tutored, because, it's boring?" He asked half strangled.

"I'm here to be tutored because they told me I had to have a tutor." He stretched his legs out into Zac's space, and hiked his shoulders up a little. And then he went assessing. "How much are they paying you?"

*he rubbed at the side of his nose* "In this moment? Not enough..." He quipped without checking himself, and then looked abashed to have said it at all. "I...mean..."

"I had a hunch." His eyes raked over Zac's clothes again, assessing, before rising back to his face. "I can probably pay better."

That earned not only a suspicious glance but a look down at his own clothing and back, wondering what kind of judgement he had just received. "To...do what, and besides you don't know how much they pay."

"Uh huh. To write all the papers and shit." He gestured, vaguely, still lounging where he was. "Put my name on them. Get this over with."

"no." The answer was curt. "That's...that's not the point of -being- here. It's... just no! Is this, is someone recording this? This is a joke, right?"

He looked around, as if maybe someone would come out -- but no one did. Instead he refocused on Zac. "I have a lot of money."

"T-that's not the point either!" He said flustered. "The point is to learn the... I mean why would you pay to not do a class you're going to have it on your record that you did?"

"It'll be on my record that I did it." He said it smoothly, gesturing at Zac. "That's the part that matters."

"No! No that isn't the point at all! You're supposed to learn, learning is the point!"

"This is a filler class to complete my degree." He dug a thumb into his eye like talking to Zac was painful. "The point is to have taken it."

"But they give you filler for a /reason/ It's to broaden your horizons, it... it's the whole principle of exploring things that...and besides the fact that I'd be fired, and that would go on my record and your record...and"

"I'm very good at broadening my own horizons." There was that dry tone again, teasing. "And only if you got caught."

"Noooo..." He said shaking his head slowly from side to side. "No, just...no, I will help tutor you but...just no..." Clearly the idea was somewhere along the same lines of palatability as suggesting that he superglue his nostrils shut or some equally ridiculous suggestion.

And the returned look was completely uncomprehending. "It'd probably be less work, though. Plus I'd pay you."

"It's not about less work, it's about learning it though, doing it, I mean you can't... I mean you can but you shouldn't take credit for something you didn't do! It's the responsibility of it... "

"So you think the point of this is to make everyone's life harder for the sake of some lesson learned." He made it sound -- dumb, the way he said it. Fighting back a yawn.

"Life isn't easy is a lesson you learn because life is harder sometimes." He sputtered. "W-why wouldn't you want to -learn- something? You might find something interesting, just because it seems boring now dosen't mean there isn;t anything of value."

He didn’t want to be here. There were too many people he didn’t know, a few of them half haunted by half forgot ‘spirits’ too far gone to be more than a nuisance. He waves at them like he was whisking away the vape clouds that were being puffed out despite signs saying no to both that and more traditional smoking. It smelled of weed and things like candy floss and captain crunch. His friends whom had been the ones to drive him here, were already occupied, and had the keys, including the ones to his damn flat because Adam was an ass. At least he had his wallet, he edged his way to the bar and ordered the first drink that looked strong and tasty hand in hand, it’s likely girly presentation could be damned if it made the night even a little more tolerable.

 

It was loud, too, just to make it that much worse, perha pounding beat around the edges of things that blurred conversations together and turned the people around him into mumbles and buzzes. He could sit at the bar for a bit and consider the monstrosity of a tiki drink he'd ordered -- but just for a bit, before someone thudded down next to him, empty glass clinking against the counte. Fair-haired and distracted and maybe already a bit gone, he cocked his head, not quite looking at Varek.

 

The feel of 'dead' prickled over his skin, but a very strange kind of it. He glanced sideways at the fair haired interloper, hesitant at first to acknowledge that he even noticed. Fresh ghosts, they tended to become desperate, and problematic when they realized someone could see them 'at last'. But 'new dead' wasn't the right feeling either. it was...thicker somehow, and more than that, he wasn't the only person noticing him.

He turned to give a proper look, arching an eyebrow, waiting for something to be said as he gave a quick glance over the well abused clothes and generally drunken demeanor. He glanced at the empty glass and then back up before taking a deliberate drink of his own.

"I'll bite...what do you want?" His own drink thumping against the bar as he set it back down.

 

"That smells atrocious." He lookd young; too young to be here, certainly, maybe even too young to be out on his own -- but he rattled the glass against the bar with an expertise of familiarity, trying to get the bartender's attention, and he smelled strongly of cigarettes. "A crime against alcohol."

 

"So do you, I don't see that stopping you though." He pulled a face and took another deliberate sip. "What do you want." he repeated more firmly. Normally the dead were all too happy to divulge some scrap of desire that kept them clinging to the world, hoping someone would hear them, Then again, most of them didn't drink... or smoke.

He clicked his rings against the edge of the bar, the clunk of them satisfying against the scared wood.

 

"Christ, that's a question, isn't it?" He was pale, tall -- standing up on the ring of the stool to wave at the bartender, and to get ignored again. With a little huffing sound, he fished out a couple of bills from his pocket, and fanned them out toward Varek. "Which of these is a twenty?"

 

The smoke smell, and the vape clouds were irritating his contacts, and he wanted to rub at them but he refused to risk dislodging the ridiculous red lenses he'd chosen to wear today. He arched an eyebrow at the bills being waved in his face before reaching out to delicately 'pinch' the twenty a bit higher than the others.

 

It got a little nod; he pried that one out and half-turned again, to wave it at the bartender -- and *finally* caught the guy's attention, to draw him over. It made him smile, quick and sharp, leaning in over the bar to order a vodka tonic. It also showed that other people could atually *see* him, the bill traded for the drink easily.

 

The fact that the bar tender responded, made him lean away slightly, frowning and now uncertain. He took a deeper drink after a moment of his 'tiki' beverage and grimaced as the flavor of it really hit home. "Mmm... what um." He hesitated, tapping his ring against the bar. "...what the hell?" He said at last.

 

"That's almost as complicated a question as *what do you want*." He sounded casual, though, settling back to sip at his drink, legs tangled around the barstools. He still hadn't fully turned to look at Varek. "But I agree. You smell off too."

 

He clicked his tongue and shook his head, swirling the drink in it's glass and lifting it, hesitating before he drank. "Maybe... but at least I'm not dead." He said and took a mouthful of his drink.

 

"I can see that much." It came with a flicker of a smile that was more teasing than anything else, one of his shoulders raised in a crooked shrug. "But you're sure something."

 

"I could say the same, besides drunk and dead I mean." He said, the latter more of a mutter into his cup.

 

That got a half a laugh into his drink, head half-turned again to consider Varek. "Why are you here?"

 

"A very literal case of being strong armed into being 'social', and you?"

 

"I'm trying to get laid." That came with a little toast, a tip of the glass -- and he downed it, with just a bit of a grimace.

 

That earned a pause and a half stifled laugh. "... drunk, dead.... and looking to get laid. Great night you're having. Do you need me to find another twenty?"

 

"You don't seem that cheap to me." It was faintly bemused, definitely teasing. And despite the fact he didn't quite look at Varek, he still seemed like he was watching.

 

"You hitting on me?" He asked, amusement in his voice. "That's ...new." He admitted.

 

"Because of your face?" He widened his eyes a bit, obviously mocking now. "I wouldn't hold that against you."