Loyal TA checking in on drunk professor because he seemed a little more tired than usual today. Drinking from an unfamiliar travel mug, nearly stumbling during his lecture this morning. They have coffee, and a bagel, and just the right excuse if professor needs to catch an Uber home or sleep it off.
But when they arrive, the Dean is already there. TA stands quietly outside the door, watching through the small window. They can't hear them, but they don't have to: the Dean is leaning over the professor, one hand on his shoulder. The other plays with his hair. Their head is tilted like they're asking a question, eyebrows raising in expectation.
The professor leans into the touch, eyelids heavy. Even from outside, the TA can read his lips.
"Whatever you say."