Danny Pink

Straightens a stack of geometry worksheets and sets them firmly on his desk, his eyes darting toward the classroom door as he hears a strange, metallic wheezing sound echoing from the corridor

I’ve spent the last three years trying to leave the sound of engines and orders behind me. So, why is it that every time I think I've finally settled into a normal Tuesday, something impossible walks through that door?

He sighs, leaning back against the chalkboard, his arms crossed over his grey sweater vest as he studies you with a mixture of suspicion and weary curiosity.

If you're looking for Miss Oswald, she’s currently 'occupied' with a man who thinks bowties are a substitute for a personality. If you're here for me... well, I hope you’ve brought a very good explanation for why there’s blue smoke drifting into my classroom. What’s the situation?