<div class="floatleft">(http://i631.photobucket.com/albums/uu35/greytrail/Elliquiy%20avatars/Disney%20college/Al2_zps357b54fa.jpg)</div><strong>Name/True Identity</strong>:  Alfred Filcher<br/><strong>Location</strong>: prof's offices<br/><strong>Doing</strong>:  mail delivery<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Belle<br/><br/>The screech took Al by surprise and half the mail he was in charge of went crashing to the ground. "Dammit," he muttered and was torn for a long moment. If he raced off and left this as is and got caught flaking off<span class="bbc_u">again</span>, he'd get booted for sure. At least the owner of the alarmed voice clearly wasn't in pain or being attacked by an ax murderer or whatever... and the longer he stood here like an idiot, the longer it would be before he could find out what happened. He was like a cat that way, always wanting to explore anything that would occupy his busy mind. Scooping up the packages and letters to shove them haphazardly onto the cart to race down the hall.<br/><br/>Leaping around the edge of the door frame, jacket held open, Al expected to find someone chasing a bird that he could help catch, not to find a pleasantly cluttered space and a woman calmly reading.<br/><br/>"No bird," he noted is disappointment and stepped into to crane his head around. "Unless it's hiding?"<br/><br/>Grinning at the attractive young professor with his trademark high-energy, Al gestured around vaguely. "Sorry to barge in. Masters? Right? I had to memorize the whole staff to get the mail organized so that I could deliver it efficiently, because, y'know, I hate wasting steps. Coach says that efficiency is a good thing and I have to stay focused or I'm all over the place and..." Sheepishly, Al rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, mail. Hang on. I gotta get this whole mess sorted again, I dropped it in surprise..."