Clothes on, Hermann sat gingerly in the armchair they'd hauled in today alongside a few orders of books. He'd gone through the trouble of locating and summoning a plug from home, and the feel of it at certain angles was maddening.

Lurching to his feet the moment Newton walked through the door, Hermann worked to channel what he imagined was the sort of excited nervousness a band groupie might have.

"N-Newton Geiszler. It really is you after all." He made a show of searching himself with his free hand. "And of course I don't have anything for you to sign.."