Barry T. Dort, principal

Barry was about to light a cigar until the NO SMOKING sign came into view. The lack of ashtrays was also evident, so he took out his wallet and handed Tyler a $5 bill. “Thanks, kid. I got some time to kill before I’m wanted back at work.”

Barry took the change and put it in his wallet, secretly stowing the cigar in the same pocket. “Oh, I’m a principal at one of the local schools,” he said nonchalantly. If he mentioned Nevermore, there was bound to be drama and Normies with ruffled feathers.

“The Doberman is named Randall, and the Jack Russell is Acey-Deucey,” he said. He then pulled a wallet from his blazer pocket and paid for his coffee. “Acey tends to get into places he shouldn’t be.”

attn: @luanneclatterbuck

One of my favorite things in the whole entire world. 😍😊

This is art, people.

Dort raised an eyebrow, tapping ash into the glass tray he kept on his desk. “Don’t be so sure, kid,” he said. “Ever since Principal Weems bit the dust, the board decided I’m the man of the house now. That means you’re under my thumb- and don’t you forget it.” His gaze then turned to a file with her name on it- the permanent record. “Got quite the rap sheet, too. I should expect some escapades in the future, right?”

Great. The goth couldn't help but begin to roll her eyes as he'd speak. She wasn't a fan already. She'd much preferred Weems. Of course, the Goth wouldn't dare admit that out loud. Then she'd simply crossed her arms as he'd glanced at her file. She expected it to be larger frankly. "Naturally..." the Goth would say.

Barry scoffed and took another drag from the holder. “I should see that coming. If you’ve lived in Vegas or been a student here, like me, you’re bound to see something unusual. But let’s get down to brass tacks. Barry Dort, Pyromancer and principal,” he said, extending his hand and switching the cigarette holder to the other one.

The Goth would stare at his hand and then made eye contact before she would then reach out to shake his hand. "Wednesday Addams. Second year student." She'd say as she would then ask. "Vegas you say? Never been."

“I see,” he said, taking another drag from the holder. “How do I even describe it? Sure, it’s crawling with Normies, but it’s got a sizeable Outcast population. I hate to brag, but I was part of Cirque du Soleil with my particular set of skills.” To punctuate it, Barry simply pointed at a candle, and it was lit.

"I figured it would have a sizeable Outcast population." Wednesday would say as her gaze would turn towards the lit candle. Returning her gaze towards him, the Goth would then add. "Am I dismissed?"

“Yes, I suppose so,” he said. “But if I catch you taking one step out of line, you’re gonna have to deal with me. The last thing I want to happen to Nevermore is that it gets overrun by Normies. Give them an inch, and they take a mile.”