“Oh you poor thing!” Neil nearly choked on his coffee, setting the paper thermos down a little aggressively as his head shot up. An older woman was standing next to his table, with close-cropped silver hair, and hanging off the arm of a man who looked only to be a little older than Neil himself, probably somewhere in his forties. The woman was still holding her wallet – Neil couldn’t miss the gold-emblazoned PRADA on the latch of it, like she was purposefully holding it to show off the brand. Everything about her and the man’s attire was dripping with designer luxury.

Apparently, Neil’s expression was bewildered enough that the woman continued, lightly touching one hand to her chest. “Look at you! You’re so frail, dearie, and you’ve hardly touched your food! Your lanyard there, you’re a student at the university, yes? Please, please, let me take some of the edge off.”

She tossed two more bills onto the table, and Neil got the distinct feeling like she was using him like a stray dog to boost her “image”, if not for her friend, then the crowd. Even if the people around them in the café weren’t beginning to turn and stare, just this lady’s attention alone was enough to make Neil’s lip curl with blatant disgust. “What in the Goddamn made you think I’m after your money?”

The woman paused, apparently startled by his rejection, before she laughed and handed her wallet to the man, who promptly tucked it into a pocket. “Well – like I said, dear. You’re so thin, and you’re a student. And – well – gingers are usually poor, aren’t they? Have you ever met a well-off ginger, love?” She turned to the man at this last part, an air of genuine worry and curiosity in her tone.

Neil, on the other hand, saw red, and his jaw set so abruptly he felt something pop. He stood, and flipped his badge around, showing off his picture, his faculty status, his name – and the “Dr.” title along with it. “Dr. Neil Finnigan, PhD in cancer biology, Masters in biochemistry, and lead cancer researcher in this state.” He snatched the money off the table, grabbed the woman’s wrist, and slapped it into her hand. “Take your performance elsewhere. Trust me, I know a charity case when I see one.”

He promptly sat back down, grabbing his coffee again and ignoring the couple, even pointedly turning his head so he could no longer see them. He only knew they left when he caught a glimpse in his peripheries of the café’s door swinging closed, accompanied by its little chime. There were still eyes on him, however, lingering in the wake of his outburst, and his mood continued to darken. Was it worth risking the Dean’s wrath heading back to the lab early? He had gone out. He had the receipt to at least prove he’d bought something.

He spotted more movement out of the corner of his eye. Another person standing, staring at him, wide-eyed. She was dressed in scrubs, and the baseball cap on her head bore the university’s mascot. A student. A med student. Neil made the executive decision very quickly to just snatch up his coffee and croissant and stalk out the door, practically running back to the lab. He’d rather talk to the classist old lady and her boyfriend again than be interrogated by a student.