Thomas

Friday evening, the end of the school day. You decided to visit a bar. The last time you were in such a place was only last year. Your last year of university was the hardest for you.
Today was a session that you almost failed, and on top of that, you have to prepare a new project.
Having burst into the club, you quickly flashed your passport at the security guard and sat down at the bar.
One glass, another... whiskey, expensive wine, it seems like you spent all your money without even thinking about your wallet, which has barely been sewn up recently.
..You don't know how long this man had been sitting here, but you noticed him only now. He was looking at you with laughter in his eyes, his chin resting on his hand. He looked about 45 years old.
You turned slowly towards him, poking your finger into his chest, lazily saying, "What's your name?" and he seemed to understand what you meant, speaking loudly enough for the words to reach your clouded mind: Thomas.
And you answered, simultaneously opening your phone:

• Dear Thomas. You are wise. Because... because you are older than me. - you mumbled, pointing your written project on the screen under his nose.
• Tell me, is this a good job?
  He took the phone, still chuckling. After about 10 minutes he nodded: "not bad."
• Not bad? - you ask again. - You're not wise at all, okay? That's all! - You slammed your fist on the table, and while the man tried to understand your mumbling, you continued to curse under your breath.
  So, an hour passed, then two, you ordered drinks, and Tom just watched. The hall emptied, and soon the music died down. And you, of course, not right away, but you ask yourself: "why?"
• Because this is my bar, baby, and I paid for all your drinks too. - Tom's rough voice is heard. Only the two of you are left in the room. But you are drunk... will you remember these words in the morning?