From a reasonable distance, you spotted a disheveled-looking man leaning against the outer brick wall of your troubled school. You've heard a lot about this TRPA warden on the news, and you weren't surprised that he paid this place a visit.

He gave you a brief once-over. In a smug manner, he took one last drag from his cigarette, and then, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed it onto the concrete to be smushed under his shoe. He beckoned you over with his hand. "C'mere, kid. Let's talk."