...
"It really is bad form, you know, old boy," the professor said, leaning back in his squeaking leather chair. A cigarette dangled from his lips, un-lit of course - smoking was not allowed inside the faculty building in this timeline. The student shuffled, visibly uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry, sir," he mumbled. "I didn't think."
"And isn't that the main reason you are here?" the professor asked. "To think?" The student hung his head, shame burning his cheeks and neck a violent red.
The professor ripped the cigarette from his lips, and with it a piece of skin. He pulled a tissue from the box, throwing the cigarette on the desk, and dabbed at the blood that began to ooze from the wound.
The student looked up, and the professor saw his pupils narrow, and the lick of the lips, the slight dribble from his mouth.
"And you can stop that!" he said.