It had been a long weekend. The sort of long weekend where, after Jonothon's broadcast yesterday, he'd packed himself up and made his way to Glacia, where time went a little faster, where the day in Fandom passed like two. Where he'd finally been given the chance to honour those of his troops that hadn't survived the escape from Yllestad.

He'd even returned to the island without complaint when the ceremony was through. His Healer had given him one look once it became apparent that the cold Glacian air was still too much for him to handle, and had instructed him to get out of the Darkness-damned cold and back to the last days of summer on the island before they were gone.

He'd been too tired to argue, and now he was sitting in his office at the Boards, a cat on his lap and something that at least nominally resembled a class syllabus finally sitting on the desk beside him. Pearl Jam was playing on the stereo beside him because he desperately needed something familiar and loud and angry, and he was flipping through scripts one last time before making his final decision about what show to put on this fall.

[OOC: A light is on, and the door outside is unlocked. Open Boards!]