Meet and Greet OPEN

Her hair is rainbow

Mentioning None

Interacting with @Orion Lécuyer

Anyone with a functioning pair of eyes will agree that the courtyard is a breathtaking place. Hogwarts in general is, but there was something about the sound of the crippling water from the fountain combined with the warmth of the sun and the softness of the silver siberian on her lap. After the unwanted rants at the toilet during the detention back in the summer camp, an idea to write her thoughts on a book would be a good idea. Of course, until someone decides to steal it and use her secrets for their own self benefit. If only there was someone who could help prevent that. As if Merlin heard her prayer, a fresh new professor fell from the bright sky like a lifesaver from heaven. A smart teacher surrounded with chocolates? How’s one still want more? “PROFESSOR!” The girl sped up her walk. Her excitement made her voice a little too loud. She cleared her throat and tried to call for him once more. “I-I mean, professor, I have a question, and it is rather important and urgent.” Wait, is he the Professor or a sweet shop owner? With all of those foods, someone could mistook him as a new addition to the kitchen team. The head chef, perhaps? Whatever his actual occupation was, he was an adult, so there will be no doubt that his magical knowledge must be more advanced than any students.

Throughout her life in the wizarding world, understanding both the beauty and the darkness, the Ravenclaw started to question many things that happened. The library was there for a reason, but because she was allergic to that place, like what she tried to convince everyone about, the desire to step into the room of dust vanished before it came. Her dream was to meet one very knowledgeable person and torture them with infinite questions. Torture seemed to be a little extreme, but it would be quite fitting. “Well, not only one, actually I have multiple questions but I will start with one that you will happily answer because the rest are-“ She bit her lip, scared to be labeled as the next dark wizard once she graduated just because of her interests, “-a bit dark” After what happened in the forest, seeing the trees were under some twisted control like a puppet, it terrified her if someday someone would so the same thing on her. But that was just a glimpse of the huge question marks inside her head. Most of it was filled with things that she could do to fill the void from losing. “ANYWAYS! Okay, so, I want to start to write a diary, but I am worried that people might read it and spill the beans, you know, so is there any way then I can put a spell or something on my book to jinx the diary stealers? Maybe, electrocute them or make them dance or sing very off pitch, but not in a fatal way, you know, just to make them run away and not touch my privacy.”

Maybe he was the person who could guide her, fill in the blanks. Someone that she could get answers from, someone that could help her. Aurora looked at her lavender shoes, hands played with the end of her robe. “And after that question, I really want to ask you about something personal, c- can I?” That sounded odd. “Not about you! It’s about me, of course, I just want to know if it is possible.” Whether he would refuse or not, at least she tried. "Also, can I take the eclairs?"

Sta - 5 | Eva - 8 | Str - 5 Wis - 8 | Arc - 4 | Acc - 10 Terrible Presence Evasive Maneuvers

Outfit Reducio School Robe

Tuesday sauntered down the corridors with a light smile on his face. The man always held a pleasant demeanor and wore simple jeans, boots, and an open flannel shirt with a white tee underneath, not to mention his classic white bandanna wrapped around his head. It was a lovely day, and Mr. Irons had only just started his time at Hogwarts. The idea of working with kiddos was somewhat appealing if you don't consider he had spent the majority of the last twenty years or so altogether avoiding them. Of course, some would find working with children somewhat intimidating, but not Tuesday! He was ready for the challenge of wrangling kids!

This whole meet 'n greet was Orion's idea, though. Apparently, he just couldn't wait to meet the student body, and not too much to his surprise, Rion had invited both himself and Hal. The trio was already well acquainted, of course. Moreover, they did spend several years within the same professional spaces, so how could they not? But careers aside, Tuesday held two Tupperware bowls in his hands. both filled with delicious-looking greens. A salad, in fact, with candied almonds and caramel dripping. Rion had told them to bring food that children from his country were fond of, but little did Rion know that Tuesday had absolutely no clue what food children ate in America. So instead, he brought one of his childhood favorites.

Tuesday could feel himself getting lost in a daydream about his childhood back home in Georgia as he walked. His childhood home was always littered with vines and plant growth, and he could still smell the dirt that saturated the inside of the house. As the man took his first step into the courtyard, the aroma of fresh baking caught his nose. Must like a cartoon, the man floated on the wind towards the delights. At this point, his feet were barely touching the ground as he was being led by his nose rather than his toes.

As he drifted around the corner, of course, it is Orion and a student with brightly colored hair waiting there for him. "Rion!...and Miss Ranvier, right?" Finally, his feet were back under him as hell looked between the two. "Looks like y'all got everythin' set up already!" Setting the Tupperware on the table, Tuesday couldn't help but feel a little shown up. He brought plastic bowls, and his comrade brought a smorgasbord of delicacies! Yet still, the Herbology professor only showed a slight hesitation before reaching over the child to snatch up one of the éclairs and popping it wholly into his mouth. The hope was that he could eat it before Professor Rion could stop him. Moments later, Tuesday had gulped down the treat only to say, "Oh, right, Miss Ranvier. I think I can answer that question. As professors, we can't condone improper uses of magic, which includes eletriction. However, there is a spell that makes people dance 'round like a madman." Tuesday's lilting Georgian accent was light but clear. He was first and foremost an American.

Interacting with @Orion Lécuyer & @Aurora Ranvier

Open to interactions

Was it brown-nosing to attend a meet and greet for incoming professors? Part of Nicholas McCowan’s soul said yes and protested greatly at his attendance at the event. He had hardly gone out of his way to befriend, or even speak to unless necessary, the teaching staff of Hogwarts during his first year at the school. Now entering his second, with his grand desires to reinvent himself, it hardly felt appropriate to go to what amounted to a glorified picnic. To say he was apprehensive about the entire ordeal would be to undersell the relative symphony of mixed emotions that he felt, for despite his rather haphazard attempts to push the limits as to what was allowed and to harden his exterior, he still longed to achieve the best grades. Maybe entering a neutral venue and learning how the new professors operated would give him some form of understanding as to their grading process, hell, maybe he could get in their good graces and lessen his workload somewhat.

Honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure what his motivations for attending were, as was often the case with the boy’s emotions, he had neither hope nor chance of understanding of controlling the odd mix of pubescent whims. Anger was the easiest to recognise and channel, but that was nowhere near the forefront that Friday.

The courtyard itself shocked Nicholas with the degree of care that had been taken into setting it for the meeting. He had been expecting a glorified picnic and had been greeted with a veritable feast of sweets and decorations befitting some minor nobility. Well, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was French, after all. Although, even for the French, a literal chocolate fountain felt a tad glamorous. For a boy from a family that was well past its prime such blatant displays of opulence still left his stomach feeling rather hollow.

The hollowness only increased as he became very aware of who the only other student who had arrived was.

“Gads,” He whispered under his breath before steeling himself.

She seemed to have asked a question of the two professors, and it was as he approached that he caught the tail end of the answer that the herbology professor had provided. Improper use of magic? What on Earth was the girl planning? An assault. He shuddered at the thought and forced such worries to the very darkest part of his being. There were some things that mortal men were not meant to know.

Fortunately, there were some things that they were very much entitled to Earthly wisdom, and one of those things was the fine comfort and fashion that was provided by flannel. Something that the new herbology professor seemed to understand whole-heartedly. Were it not for the bandana, his outfit was the upsized version of one of the three that Nicholas seemed to wear on near constant rotation.

Somewhat comforted by the thought, he greeted the gathering assortment with a wave, “Uh, hello. My name’s McCowan, oh, Nicholas McCowan, pleasure to meet you.”

He had absolutely no clue how to properly introduce himself to adults outside of a school or family setting, by all rights it was a miracle he even thought to say hello. Was saying hello even appropriate?

“I love the shirt, sir,” He gestured to the American teacher’s flannel rather woodenly, was that an appropriate thing to do socially to a professor? Yes? He would go with yes.

“And thank you for the food,” He added rather hastily to both professors, his eyes moving between the two and then to the baked goods. They lingered on Ranvier for just a moment before he very pointedly returned his glance to the American, it would almost certainly be best to ignore the girl and hope that she went away.

Stats: STA: 12 | EVA: 6 | STR: 8 | WIS: 6 | ARC: 4 | ACC: 6
Abilities: Foulplay | Statistically Relevant
Tags: @Tuesday Jeremiah Irons, @Orion Lécuyer & @Aurora Ranvier
Action: Entering
Open to Interactions

@Aurora Ranvier | @Nicholas McCowan | @Orion Lécuyer | @Tuesday Jeremiah Irons

Violet had heard that three professors had dropped their positions that year, and that three other professors were joining them. One of the professors that were going to be substituted was the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Violet had not done any connection with the previous professor except for lessons, but she did have to admit, that class was exceptionally great. One of her favourites actually, if you did not count potions class. So Violet was rightfully curious about who was going to take Professor Pendrast's place as the new professor, so when she heard that the three new professors were going to be meeting students in the courtyard, Violet hesitantly zoomed to the place to at least glance at them.

When she arrived at the courtyard, Violet took a deep breath and instead of the fresh air that she was supposed to inhale, she breathed a sweet smell of baked goods that reminded her of the food she used to eat at home. Turning to see where the smell was coming from, Violet saw that it was from the table in which the new professors were. Her stomach started to rumble as she saw the table filled with eclairs, cupcakes, macaroons and all sorts of things that she could desire at that moment. She had a sweet tooth, and she could not resist wanting to take a bit from those beautiful eclairs.

Violet was quite shy and awkward when she had to meet new people, especially seniors, so she was already hesitant to go ahead and meet the new professors, but the desire of eating one of those goods were great. Gulping, she slowly went forwards towards where the professors were, looking at the eclairs then at the supposed to be new professor of defense against the dark arts. She waved at him, and then, feeling a bit more confident, said, ''Monsieur, Carrington, Violet Carrington, uh, I was wondering if maybe I could take one of these?'' she pointed at the eclairs. ''And, uhm, could I ask you a question, if that is o-''

If Violet had not paid any attention, she wouldn't have seen McCowan, who was talking to the other professor. She had already seen that Aurora was there, but she had decided not to pay any attention to her. Surely that human monster wouldn't do anything in front of the new professors, right? But now Violet was starting to doubt that there was going to be much tranquility for much longer. Not long ago, Aurora and Violet had gotten into detention and had a small 'bonding time' while cleaning toilets. The point was, that Aurora had started to vent things about her life to Violet, and since then, the slytherin had started to pity aurora more and more. The loss of a parent was no joke, but something that the ravenclaw had said surprised her. She said something about someone called Nicholas, and, well, she was talking quite romantically about him too. Almost revealing that she knew of McCowans existence, Violet had decided to keep the fact that she was not in good terms with him a secret. And she was definitely not going to reveal it now.

Violet simply glared at the Gryffindor and glanced at Aurora once more before looking back at the professor. Now, what was the question again?

For some reason recently coming into the new school year it seemed not only a bunch of new faces, that being the first years were entering the school. A few professors had retired and in there place came a few more. If she were to recall correctly Divination, Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts had new professors and they wanted to do a meet and greet with their students. How thoughtful.. and perhaps slightly suspicious. None the less she decided to make her way down.

The brunette sauntered down to the courtyard where she heard the gathering would take place. Her robes swished behind her as she walked out into the open air. A few voices of students tickled her ear as well as some newer, adult ones. Annie reached her hand out and bent over slightly hoping her fingers would grasp a cool stone slab. As if the world heard her plea, a bench made itself appear under her fingertips and the girl sat down gratefully. She'd draw her gaze over to one particular adult voice with an American accent, the other adult voice had.. a very easy to tell French accent as she had heard quite a bit of gossip from Beauxbatons students.

"Hello there, the name's Annie Morgan, alas my other titles won't serve me any purpose in this conversation." She'd chuckle at how she'd usually have a long introduction including her year, Prefect role and Quidditch position but alas the professors didn't need to know that much. Unless if they asked and then she would respond. "Are either of you the Herbology or Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? No dislike in Divination but I am interested more so in the other two as I look into becoming a Healer in the future and I must receive high marks in my N.E.W.T.s when the time comes.

She'd toss a small smile towards, possibly one of them depending on the direction they were located. At this point she could've been talking to a wall and wouldn't have known unless someone shut her up or she heard a voice come from behind her. Annie would neatly fold her hands in her lap and await a reply. She was in no rush and didn't have as many curious questions as some of the other hopeful students gathered so the brunette could take a breather and relax.

Mentions/Interactions: @Orion Lécuyer & @Tuesday Jeremiah Irons

Having spent all of her young life before school interacting only with adults, Liana felt more comfortable in their company than in that of her peers'. Nonetheless, she could still sense that a lot of grownups treated her with that condescendingly cheerful manner some folks adopted when speaking to kids. Back at home she had not received such treatment neither from her favourite tutor, nor from Father, nor from his new wife. Therefore, the first few classes at Hogwarts required some mental adjustment on her part. The professors here would treat her kindly and give praise where praise was due, but they would also have fairly low expectations for her performance. It was only normal, she supposed - now she was only one face among a thousand, and there was only so much space a single pupil could take up in any given teacher's mind. If she felt drawn to a specific subject, there would not be a possibility to ask for extra lessons - Liana would have to learn on her own. She intended to do just that. And yet, she may occasionally need the proverbial crutches in her quest for knowledge - an advice on wand movement, a suggestion of literature, etc. - which meant it would still do well to get to know the professors a little better.

The perfect occasion to do just that presented itself in the unofficial event held by the three new professors - although, technically, all the professors were new to a first-year. The fact that other, older students would be there felt a little intimidating, and so the redhead entered the courtyard timidly, glancing around to take in the situation and uncertainly moving along one of the walls like a mouse instead of heading straight for the center where the action seemed to be happening. There was only a handful of other students so far, but all of them were older. Which made Liana's insecurities flare up, even though this was actually the best time to just pounce on the professors with her introductions and questions, then depart before it got too crowded.

The young Slytherin finally gathered enough courage to leave the reassuring shelter of the courtyard wall and move towards the group. She was just about to courageously speak to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but a Hufflepuff girl beat her to it, dauntlessly addressing two of the teachers at the same time. Not wanting to interrupt and seeking something to occupy herself with so she wasn't just standing around awkwardly, Liana quickly veered off her initial course and stopped at a nearby table laden with sweet delicacies. She distractedly picked up the first thing that seemed to be of a manageable bite-size - a green macaroon. The eleven-year-old did not have a sweet-tooth, but there was a need to appear occupied now, so she bit into the cookie while admiring - with perhaps too much displayed interest - the tall cascade of rich brown chocolate. In the meantime, her ears were prickled for even a tiny lull in the conversation, so she could step in and be heard, rather than talked over by someone louder and more brazen. When that lull finally came, she quickly stepped towards the DADA professor, who already seemed to have attracted plenty of interest. However, Liana's main interest was his subject, so the girl couldn't help but join those wanting a communication from him.

''Hello, I'm Liana Kerr, first-year. I guess I'm as new to the school as you are,'' she introduced herself to both professors currently present, attempting a light quip before focusing on her primary target. ''Professor Lécuyer? I hope I'm pronouncing your name correctly... I was wondering if there is a possibility to use the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom for individual spell-casting practice? I have been looking into some second-year spells I would love to try out, and it would be great to do that in a classroom specially equipped for that,'' the girl explained, referring to all the dummies lining the classroom walls, as well as the space needed for free movement. ''I understand if adult supervision is mandatory, although it's not necessary because I'm very responsible with my wandwork and I adhere to the safety rules strictly,'' she assured, suddenly worried about a possible negative answer.

Be nice, they said. Make friends, they said. Seem friendly, they said. It would be fun, they said. Ugh, she hated it already. It was tiring to be pleasant and accommodating. Did people realise how much effort it was? A LOT. Okay, it really was not that much effort but it was definitely more effort than just snuggling up on the sofa with a book. Despite that, today, she had a very small job to do. Her intention was not to stay for more than ten minutes. If it was at all possible, she would just show her face simply to be polite and accommodating and then leave. A certain badger would be proud of her, for that right?

Carrying a purple box with a gold ribbon on it in her palms with a small bag tucked underneath it, she walked towards the Courtyard. She had heard that the new professors had set up a small event to get to know the students better. In all honesty, the exact details of the event had not phased her. However, she decided to check in on her newest staff member - Orion Lécuyer - and make sure he settled in okay. It was polite, apparently. It was a good way to get to know people, which was apparently a good thing to do. So she was told, anyway. It was probably wise given that many of her friends had left the school to pursue other passions now and she was down to barely any. She could count the people she trusted on one hand very easily.

"Professor Lécuyer," She greeted politely, "A fine set up, I see. I don't think you need any more but, I baked an extra pie so thought I would bring it over for you all," She continued as she held up a box for the man to take. The box contained an apple pie. Yesterday, Hjørdis had baked one to send to Beauxbatons for a very special birthday. When she had asked the new teenager what she wanted to eat, she said an apple pie. So, she made the best darn apple pie she could find in her collection of recipes. Whilst she was baking it, Caradoc's words came to mind so she figured a second one could go a long way in helping her to get to know her new colleagues or whatever. The DADA professor was not someone she knew well but she had briefly spoken to him over the past few days, introducing him to the school and showing him around. The usual stuff she did for those under her care.

"Professor Irons," Hjørdis added as she turned to him, emphasising on the 'professor' title with a smirk on her lips as she bought out another small bag, "Thought you might prefer this though," Her voice dropped in volume as she said the last part. The small bag contained some candied nuts, which seemed to be a lot more his speed. Though, she would have been highly offended if he did not, at least, try the apple pie.

Both of them were getting surrounded by students already, so she had no intention of staying long. She just thought she'd drop by, give them her gift and then leave basically. That was fine, right? She did not have to stay for like a minimum of twenty minutes or something, right? Ugh, this was such a pain. Why could she not just go read a book or something?

Interacting With: @Orion Lécuyer, @Tuesday Jeremiah Irons, & @Nicholas McCowan | Mentioning: @Violet Carrington | Dialogue Hex: #143314

Pushing past that of watering flowers and running from the neighbour’s slobbering beast of an animal companion, trekking through the midnight musings and bathroom arguments with Leibniz, the young Slytherin placed his pleasurable pastime of producing a perfectly programmed index of listings and lineups on something quite like a pedestal of the finest marble and gold. Two of those lists in particular were used very often; much more often than his one meant for differentiating traits of a Pembroke Welsh corgi and a Cardigan Welsh corgi, anyhow. No, it was the trailing paper which contained all his likes and dislikes written in barely legible ink, the stationary sheets he consulted for figuring out whether or not he would immediately combust should he stay in a given situation. There were two items, however, that constantly switched between the otherwise organised categories, flippantly leaving and returning to and fro several times in the span of a single minute: school and teachers.

Leonard liked the basic concept of school, of course he did. Its very definition was being an institution meant for teaching, for providing enlightenment to those who had the world’s future resting upon their scrawny shoulders, how could he even fathom despising it? His life’s mission being to reach a degree of education where he need no longer spend weeks debating on which facet of knowledge he should use to determine the socially acceptable position of one’s hand on a given fork using the pythagorean theorem, he’d been infatuated with the classroom for his entire childhood, much to the easily perceived chagrin of his peers and teachers. Another detail pertaining to schoolhouses he would marry if he had the chance was its routine. A predetermined schedule for every hour, a mandatory timetable that all had to follow and attend to. Merlin, it made him swoon at the very thought, each tick and tock of the ticking clock being planned by someone other than him for once. Now, being commonly associated with school by centuries of partnership in benefiting society, teachers were immediately given the privilege of accompanying the educational establishments on that list of loves. Nothing any of his last school’s faculty had done anything terribly offensive in his perspective, by reasoning of him being much too young to really care about them personally and being more focused on the curriculum than those presenting the curriculum. However, the school of witchcraft and wizardry and blatantly ignoring anything logical just couldn’t resist flipping all of those upside down and downside up and right to left and left to right and all about the town to the point where he could barely grasp what he’d even made of that saying. Change completed the grand triangle of phenomenon that was perpetually placed on a ridiculously fast metronome deciding good, tolerable, and awful, and all three had decided to collide in one infuriatingly irrefusable offer.

It was with two boxes and a bamboo steamer comprising tea-infused shortbread cookies, seven croissants that were supposed to be eight but suspiciously weren’t, and a Scotch pie respectively that the boy set off to meet his new instructors at the campus courtyard. At least, he’d heard from an acquaintance of an acquaintance of an acquaintance that there were indeed new instructors who had indeed set up a meeting at the courtyard, and he really did hope they were there. Otherwise, how was he supposed to eat all of the things he’d requested so fervently from his father? There wasn’t any way in the nine circles of Dante’s hell he would be sharing, obviously, so the stakes really were high in this case.

After minutes that could’ve been entire days of him shuffling and sneaking down to the supposed location of the meeting, Leonard finally reached the ever-familiar stone slabs showing him to the greeting session. Alas, it seemed an assortment of students and his house’s head had been granted the gift of arriving there first, two of whom he could identify, but only one of whom he shared even a lightly good relationship with.

The smile he wore as he walked to the outdoor meal and meeting was sheepish at best, completely terrified at worst, and though he was fairly certain it was closer to the former, he would’ve appreciated a final check in the mirror beforehand. His only rehearsals had been to his reflection, as would likely be expected from someone of his general demeanour. No matter, he had taken great care to the other parts of his appearance, making sure no stain or miniscule crinkle in his attire would take attention away from the gifts of food he’d brought.

“Hello, professors.” He waved slightly to the two men as he approached before moving his hand back to safely secure the pastries, panic showing itself across his expression before reverting to nervousness attempting to hide behind a grin. “I would be Leonard Oaksworth, third year, now. Strange to think about how much time has passed, really, and all the changes. Not that change can’t be a good thing, it’s just…”

The snake trailed off, now noticing the offerings he’d brought in the light of a distraction from how bad his first impressions must’ve gone. He placed them on the nearest available, conceivably clean surface, trusting that he wasn’t accidentally offending one of the professors’ baking. If one of them had been a baker previous to this occupation, he would be golden. Not quite the purest gold of carats in numbers past twenty-four, but he’d settle for somewhere close.

“These would be for you three, a sort of welcome present from Oaksworth Bakery, located in Brighton if any of you are wondering.” Flashing a genuinely confident smirk for the sake of the business he’d taken so much from for purposes of influencing people as much as a preteen could, he then took a second to count the numbers of new professors. “Although I think we may be missing one of those three. I’d hope that wouldn’t be the Divination professor, I’m quite interested in things of the future. Of course, science dictates it should be nothing but rubbish, but since it’s been taught for so long I’ve been thinking it, well, wouldn’t be a complete sham.”

At this point, he might as well have been made of rubbish and shams. If only there were a muggle store located near the castle that had been giving a discount on tape, he would’ve certainly bought everything on the shelf. He could only let a puff of anxious laughter out, moving towards the only other student he could recognise and didn’t want to hex into oblivion.

“You’d be Nicholas, right? We’ve met on the train to summer camp.” He gestured vaguely in the general direction of the grassy grounds, hoping that would prompt some noticeable memory. Mentally, he took note to stick with a reputation of stoicism if further convergence in conversation were to happen.

Interacting With
@Aurora Ranvier, @Violet Carrington, @Nicholas McCowan, @Annie Morgan, @Liana Kerr, @Leonard Oaksworth & @Orion Lécuyer

Mentioning
@Tuesday Jeremiah Irons & @Hjørdis Jensen

It'll be fun, they said. Meet the students, they said. Mandatory, he said. Well, since when had Hal given two flying leaps about what Orion said?
That highty tighty accent of his served as ample ammunition to grate on the man's thread-bare nerves as it was; he could cuss with all the fervor of an unwashed sailor, and it would still sound as though he were singing his victim a French serenade. That fact had increased Hal's displeasure tenfold as his colleague spewed melodic demands that he attend this 'meet and greet.' And what's worse, he was to bring some form of food that the children of his country enjoyed.
How in the actual blue blazes was he supposed to know what the kids liked? He hadn't interacted with one since washing his hands gratefully of being a child himself - at least not willingly. Sure, there had been occasional instances of toddlers flapping their jaws at him, but did anyone actually listen to their stories of a pet rock named Steven?
Hal didn't think so. And if there were any such individuals, he sincerely hoped fate would award him with a distinct lack of their presence.

Orion. Orion was almost certainly one such individual.
It was true, then. Fate hated him.

Despite the glaring absence of hostility in the Frenchman's voice, however, Hal had taken his demands as more of a challenge; and nary would he be seen yellow in the face of conflict.
He did know of one thing he used to eat, back in the seaside village of Staithes, England. The students were sure to love it.
Striding into the courtyard, the apathetic set of the new Divination Professor's facial features was all too obvious as he laid eyes upon a small group of the student body. He'd have counted if he cared, but no nagging sense of guilt prompted him to do so. Nowhere was the anxious chant inside his mind that he was late for a very important date. He didn't even want to be there in the first place; far be it for him to regret not showing up on time.
Resting conspicuously across his shoulder was a former tree branch, snapped from its mother trunk and whittled down to a convenient rod, perfect for the purpose of hanging gutted fish by their gills along its length.

Having grown up in a fishing town, his father employed as a fisherman, Hal had inevitably endured many long years of being forced to indulge in his spoils. Unfortunately, whether they be grilled, baked, or deep fried, he never had developed a taste for the aquatic creatures. However, luckily enough for his new students, he had acquired a love of casual fishing, and a desire to make others suffer exactly the way he did.
Sauntering over to the nearest table, the man propped the rod bearing his latest catch from a nearby river against its side, cast his gaze toward the group once more, and opened his mouth.
"'Ow do, bairns," he exclaimed gruffly in a deep Yorkshire accent. "Best come an' get your fish before they spoil! Even gut'ed em' for the lo' 'o yer."
Rather satisfied with himself, he then glanced at Orion, raising his arms in a clear 'you happy?' gesture. Of course, he truly hoped his colleague was, in fact, not happy.
Much to his delight, he noticed the sheer number of young voices directed in the man's general direction, all of which had been unceremoniously interrupted by his proclamation.
He briefly noted the presence of Professor Friday Irons' - the one whom he merrily addressed as the wrong day of the week, as Fridays were much preferable to Tuesdays. However, Friday's existence did not intrigue him nearly so much as that of the woman occupying his attention - or rather, the suspicious box she'd handed to Orion.
Sure, she was pretty enough, but the purple container struck him as the perfect place to store a pie.

Ahh, pies. The delicate delights to be prepared by only the finest of hands. The owners of pastry supremacy, and the most perfect way to make use of apples, specifically.
Hal recalled the first time he'd bitten into an apple pie, its aroma wafting blissfully into his welcoming nostrils as his taste buds entered the celestial planes of heaven. In that moment, all of his troubles had seemed to dissipate, as mist in the sun's rays.
Though the memory served as temptation to investigate the contents of the box, the general idea of entering the sea of children repelled him, pushing his feet instead to the nearest unoccupied wall, where he leaned back with a disgruntled sigh.
Though this gathering was intended as a meet and greet, he had no desire to meet, nor greet anyone outside of class - a message that his dark eyes would communicate to any who wandered near.

Considering his lack of interest in people, let alone small people, the profession of a teacher seemed a rather odd fit. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and he feared that such desperation was soon to bleed into his every action.