"Oh, um, did you call him early in the morning? Because he's not... He's not a morning person. I mean, he's not an afternoon person either -- if you try, like, after seven..." Heh. Iggins explains that, given Dan's not-so-stellar performance in this room and his poor-ass DUMBO qualifications, he's going to need at least one other letter about his work. Dan gets pissy immediately, because he's applied for a MacArthur every six months since he was ten: "Another letter. From whom? ...And how?" Iggins urges him to look out the fucking window at all the brick buildings full of professors he should find there. "I suggest you put on your walking shoes..." And right then you know Dan's face is going to go impressively sour, because the only thing he hates more than putting on his walking shoes is accepting and loving people for who they are.
Charles and Nathaniel -- in rust-colored pants and a plum fedora -- revisit on the green. Nate is bored of sitting in the grass absent-mindedly playing with Chuck's hair and wants to go do something, but Chuck assures him that one does not "find" the Skull & Bones studs, they come find you. And then things get naughty. Nate's down with that, but notices totally boring things they could be doing, like attending a game of "football," whatever that is, or touring the art gallery... And then he spots Jordan Steele (YES! THAT IS HER NAME!) wandering uselessly behind a group of persons she probably refers to as her friends. She has kind of a ... Degrassi look to her. I don't know if that puts the image in your head that it puts in mine, but trust that it is perfectly descriptive.
Nate's dork-dar being no less impressively calibrated than poor old Asher Hornsby's, he immediately recognizes Jordan as the kind of low-self-esteem TA that would sleep with even the most obvious of homosexuals in the hopes of climbing higher in the social register. He takes off after her, wishing she had a hot dog he could knock out of her hands, and Chuck's like, "He'll come back." Of course, the second he's alone the Skull & Bones hotties play out an Alias-worthy snatch-and-grab, one reclining against the wall, insouciant as Jimmy Dean while another rough and tumble lad comes around the corner, knocks into Chuck just hard enough that he's caught off-guard, and then they put a bag over his head. Of course, he reacts in no way beyond a slight wobble for balance, because a) this is porn happening right in front of you and he likes porn and b) all he had to do was show up. I didn't want to go to college when I was in high school, because nobody was kind enough to explain that these kinds of things happen so regularly, but I assure you that the bag-over-the-head abductions are as constant and enjoyable a part of the collegiate experience as shaving cream fights in the quad, embarrassing sexual fumbles (and bunts), or overemotional, Foucault-referencing fights about the communal cooking space.