On the school field, the sun is shining brightly, and you can't help but wonder if it's a harbinger of things to come. Or, if it's just a regular meteorological event looking for something to harbinge, whether you can claim that it's a harbinger and hope that everyone goes along with it without asking awkward questions.
You're trying to work out the different verb conjugations of "harbinge" when the students, en masse, troop their way out of the school.
You don't need to be an expert on undead species to spot the clear separation between the groups. There's a clear gap of six feet between the leftmost vampire and the rightmost werewolf. You wonder how the upcoming group activity of slogging through well-fertilized fields and getting shouted at by farmers is going to aid a building of community feeling.
Sonia, Max, Fritz, and Val join you, Michelle, and Renault, looking out at what you'd probably call the troops if you were in any way of the martial disposition.
"Shall we go, then?" you ask them.
Max shakes his head. "First, the speech," he says. "Can't forget that."
You give him a blank look. "Speech?"
Beside you, Sonia nods. "Got to give a speech," she agrees. "Sets expectations. Helps with morale. Promises retribution in the case of balls being dropped or pooches being screwed." She glances at Max. "Present company excepted."
You look from vampire to werewolf, both of whom appear to be in complete accord for the first time since you've met them. "Well…what do you usually say?"
"Well, I tend to do it in wolf," Max says. "You'll have a bit of trouble with that: you've not really got the tail for it. Or the pheromones."
"Mine usually runs along the lines of threatening to rip their spines out if they don't get the job done," offers Sonia, psychological safety proponent.
You turn to face the waiting students, who seem to be anticipating a speech as keenly as you're dreading giving one.