Nathan Algren

For all of the questions that Algren had been dreading about his class since he'd learned of the influx of parents this weekend, what he had woken up this morning worried the most about was, what in the world was he supposed to wear? He had all of one modern outfit, worn until it was more or less threadbare now (thus putting his interest in this Armani nonsense down a few more notches), and the rest were somewhat... period.

Either he would come off looking like a crazy man in a dress suit from the late 1800s, a crazy man in old Japanese casual dress, a crazy man who fancied himself a Civil War soldier, or a crazy white Samurai.

He settled on 'crazy man in very dated dress suit' for today, grabbed some muffins on the way in as a last ditch effort to convince visitors that he was at least sane and hospitable, and put on the kettle in case anyone wanted tea. Maybe tomorrow, he'd go with 'crazy white Samurai,' instead, just because he could.

[Open for all of your Parents Weekend What The Hell Are You Teaching Our Children needs.]

Algren was holding his office hours a little earlier than usual today. After all, it was going to be a busy day. There was still the staff meeting to take care of before the trip to Vegas with Tony, Tyler, and Steve.

There were about a million things about that sentence that had him feeling more than just a little awkward, all things considered.

So. Algren was holding his office hours. A little early. And accomplishing nothing while he was there.

Sometimes, Algren caught himself wishing that there was a faster way to catch up on the hundred and some years that he'd happened to miss between his own time and the here and now. Reading books was informative, certainly, but it took time. And a century and then some was nothing small, to say the least.

Still and all, books were the only avenue currently open to Algren when it came to catching up.

Sooner or later, he'd probably even read about the internet.

Today in his office, however, he was reading up on the telephone.

Baby steps. Baby steps.

Well. The assembly had... gone...

It had gone. That was more than enough for Algren, who was holding his office hours in his military uniform since his other clothing had vanished on him.

When those clothes had decided to disappear as well, Algren did two things. First, the "AUUUUUGH" sound he made, which nearly made the ceiling rattle. And second, the sudden and indisputable conclusion was made that the entirety of the past two weeks was nothing more than a drunken hallucination.

Yes. That had to be it.

[[Open!]]