There was his middle, a barrel-like stomach in a Hawaiian shirt with palm trees and pineapples on it. Molly moved up a level. The shirt was short-sleeved and on his hairy arm the man wore an expensive-looking gold watch. His hands were small, fat and hairy, whilst his fingernails were disgustingly long. He strummed the desk impatiently.
Molly moved up one more shelf.
His nose was upturned and his face was round with a double chin. His black greasy hair started halfway back across his head and hung down to his shoulders. His beard was a small, sharp, black triangle just under his bottom lip, and his moustache was clipped and oiled. His eyes were bulbous and his face was sunburnt. In all, he looked like a very ugly sea lion, and, Molly thought, very unlike how she’d imagined a professor should look.
The man waddled through the aisles, huffing and sweating. Molly could hear his angry breath. Now he was just the other side of her bookshelf, so close that Molly could have touched him. He smelt of old chip fat and fish and tobacco. Round his rashy neck, on a gold chain, hung a scorpion medallion that nestled in his hairy chest. The golden scorpion had a diamond for an eye that caught the light and winked at Molly. The Professor’s pudgy, taloned finger ran menacingly along the top of the T to W books.