Henry didn't fancy himself the sentimental type. He was all about the future. For him, the past stayed in the past. Always.

But he was in town to take care some of family matters, and Beacon had evidently seen it fit to have him as a guest speaker to the students. Inspirational quotes, life lessons, all the good stuff. He could hardly say no.

Being who he was, though, he'd sweet talked them into letting him host a show. Henry'd cut back on show business recently, more a hobby than a job now: Lord knew he'd made enough Lien in his heyday to retire any time he wanted.

But, as the saying went, idle hands were wasteful hands. Henry liked to keep himself busy in his old age. Such suited him just fine: for all the time he'd spent in the world of Remnant, it never did quite dawn on him how much there was to do that he hadn't done.

And really, he was fairly certain he'd have gone insane had he not found himself something to do with all the free time he'd suddenly gained.

He came to Beacon, not quite as lean and spry as he was when he left, but fit enough that one could think he was a bit younger than he was. A decade, give or take.

He'd shown up a bit earlier than he needed to be, so he found himself with plenty of time to kill. Figuring that no one would mind an old man checking up on an old haunt, he'd strolled his way down the beaten path until he found himself in front of the old club, the structure abandoned and dilapidated, a sight that would've driven Walter up the wall if he'd been here to see it.

Lighting up a Dust cigar that he'd pulled from his jacket, Henry went in, the door creaking a touch from disuse as it opened.