The Staff Lounge

"Thanks for the offer but I don't wanna intrude..." Logan chuckled awkwardly before backing away.

"Oh it's not trouble!" Marisol cried, almost pleading. Logan just shook his head.

"Oh... you don't know the kind of chaos I can cause in a Biology lab!" Logan stammered before turning around and shuffling to the staircase. That Marisol woman kind of creeped him out... why was she so eager to spend time with him?

Logan sauntered through the school until he came to the appropriate room. It was marked 'Teacher's Lounge'.

Hesitantly, he pushed the door open, unsure of what to expect. Back at Uni the faculty lounge was always brimming with teachers, lounging on couches, laughing over a pot of coffee, playing a game of darts, et cetera.

This one was... depressingly different. It was half the size of the university lounge, barely the size of a classroom. There was a thick carpet all over the floor and some admittedly ambient paintings dotted across the wall. A variety of couches and desks scattered across the room and a large conference table.

Logan sighed as the depressing silence that pervaded the room before dropping his bag and making his way to the coffee machine. He was not making any new friends around here... maybe he should have taken up Marisol's offer.

He nearly jumped however when he saw a woman with her head on the table, a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. It looked like she was napping.

"Uh... hello?" Logan ventured. The woman suddenly shot up, as if possessed, coffee sloshing out of her mug on the table.

"Whoa! Calm!" Logan soothed, placing his hands up. The woman's eyes shot to him, her irises bouncing around wildly until the finally focused on him.

She looked old... both mentally and physically. Logan was certain that when she was younger she must've been beautiful. She still was, but she looked tired.

She had long, albeit thinning blonde hair, flecks of grey peppered through. Her face was pockmarked with sun freckles and thin wrinkles that ran across her sharp bone structure.

"Sorry to scare..." Logan apologized. The woman blinked, coming back to her senses.

"N-no problem. Are you new here?" She asked, sipping from her cup. Logan nodded, and the woman smiled weakly.

"Josephine McGeady. But everyone calls me Jo- I teach English. You might know my husband, Brad? He teaches Calculus." She said, a weary note in her otherwise excited voice.

"Uh- haven't met Brad yet. Nice to meet you though." Logan answered. He waited a long moment while Jo stared at him pointedly... then it hit him.

"Oh- right, sorry. I'm Logan. Logan Sawyer. I teach History and Economics." He responded. Jo chuckled pleasantly at his mental buffer.

"Uh... mind if I sit?" Logan asked. Jo cocked her head as if considering it before nodding. Fortunately, she didn't look too worn out.

"So what brought you to the Grounds?" Jo asked, staring unnervingly into Logan's soul.

"Uh, my wife. Sarah Dunbar-Sawyer?" Logan responded. Jo's eyes shot up in recognition.

"Oh... you're him." She murmured cryptically, her eyes widening slightly.

"Him?" Logan asked. Jo shook her head.

"Nothing. Some of my neighbours heard that Sarah had brought a new man with her." Jo tossed out offhandedly. "We're a pretty small town, and not many people move in." She added, answering Logan's questioning look.

"Right. You looked pretty beat up when I came just now... are you okay?" Logan asked. Jo let out a long suffering sigh before staring longingly out of the window.

"No it's nothing... just the kids sometimes." She murmured. Logan nodded sympathetically.

"Any in particular? For future reference?" He asked cheekily. Jo cracked a weary smile.

"A fair few. Mostly the athletes... you coach girl's basketball, right? Well, I'd appreciate if you could get through to Sha'Maria Lawrence. She's a... tough cookie. Fiona Nash-Shaffer has been a problem here since she joined. They're good kids... just in the wrong circumstances." Jo answered.

Logan frowned, turning the names over in his head.

"Nash-Shaffer... that's a hard name to miss. I feel like I have her in a History class?" Logan wondered aloud.

"She's hard to miss. She's tall- 6'1, I think. Built like wrestler too- broad shoulders, very toned body which she does like to show off... and her clothing is very... unique. I believe the youth call it emo?" Jo theorized.

"Ah... I know who you're talking about. Fiona. She tried starting an arguement with me about why its morally incorrect for society to thrive due to the ruthless cullings of non-hominids." Logan recalled.

"Yep... sounds like her." Jo responded before the two settled into a slightly uncomfortable silence.

"Do you want to head to the cafeteria and grab a bit?" Jo suddenly ventured.