"This is, dear lady, perhaps the only place where one can acquire a drink without the stigma of being 'that old man with the brown paper bag'," Xavier explained, "and besides, I've become used to visiting and keeping an eye on the young and foolish over the years."
"You get used to it -- it's like that every year," Xavier said. "Two hundred students at the start of the year, one hundred at the end, and forty at graduation."
"I'm sure each of us has our own reasons," Xavier said. "Me, I was born here, and I consider it my duty to keep people from their own stupidity, at least until they're old enough to supposedly know better."
Xavier nodded. "Sunnydale lifer, that's me." He chuckled at the surprised look. "For some reason, everyone seems to assume I'm from out of town when they first meet me these days."
"I imagine that's because most people don't survive to be your age in this town. No offense," Rachel said. She didn't mean that he was impossibly old or anything- only that the town seemed to kill off people long before then.
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She sighed. "It seems like we have more and more students disappearing from the role call every month."
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Maybe to the survivors - but sometimes Rachel thought that even those lucky enough to survive Sunnydale to adulthood were permanently damaged by it.
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Most people who were born in Sunnydale either moved away or died or died then moved away.
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"What's your secret to longevity in Sunnydale?"
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