I'm good at shooting people, cracking wise, and pretending to know how to fight.

Atton arrived in his office almost an entire weekend late.

Look, he'd gotten the far-away office for a reason, and that reason was largely making sure nobody bugged him.

So he got there at the start of the afternoon, set up some terrible holo to watch, and left after a couple of hours. Parents Weekend, right?

[[ open! ]]

Apparently Mical hadn't been lying when he said he was pissed and he was going to 'act accordingly'; Atton hadn't gotten a single mission assignment since coming back to Fandom on Monday. He'd start getting antsy soon enough - he knew that much - but right now he couldn't say he was exactly sorry about it. Everything he'd lost, physically and mentally, had been slotting back into place over the past couple of days.

It didn't leave him with a pretty picture of what had gone on last week. Or what it all meant.

But today he was tired of sitting around his apartment watching television and rooting through the connections in his head. So he packed up some lunch and made the trek up to the school, so he could sit in his office and brood there, instead. Maybe play another game of pazaak to himself in a slightly less brooding environment.

He propped his feet up on his desk and cast the first set of cards out in front of him, then took a long sip of his cup of coffee. The music he had playing was even roaring at a slightly more respectable volume than usual today.

[[ door open, post open! ]]

You could always tell by the loud music roaring through the halls that Atton was in for the day. If you were a Force sensitive, you might even be able to tell by the vast Force abuse going on in his office right now.

Of course, you could also just listen for the sound of darts hitting paper and quiet muttering about stupid droids and various profane things in Huttese and Twi'lekki, but where was the fun in that?

Atton had a picture of a basic T3 unit tacked up on his wall, and damn right, he was hurling darts at it. "Stupid barvy droids, breaking all the time, who the hell doesn't wipe their garbage droids' memory on a regular basis, were they hoping to cause trouble..."

Admittedly, the droids that had attacked them hadn't been T3 droids. But they had been utility droids, damn it, and okay, maybe some days he almost missed T3-M4, that incredibly annoying little cheat with his manipulating of pazaak rules and...

It was rant day in Atton's office.

[[ open! ]]

Atton had put in some paperwork to get relocated to another office, and look, there he was. Perfect spot: as far away from the other teachers as possible so he didn't have to deal with them. And by 'not dealing with them', he meant he could blast music pretty loud without someone banging on his door or otherwise complaining.

He propped his feet up on the desk, eyeballing a holopad he'd gotten from Mira on his way out. Something something Mical payback something. Yeah, sure, he was terrified.

"Dadadada head like a hole," he hummed along, mostly in-tune.

Sure, he was technically opposite a couple of the classrooms right now, but they weren't going to use those, right? And if they did, well, Nine Inch Nails was good for growing kids. Character building. That kind of thing.

[[ door cracked, post open ]]

Okay, he'd been mostly joking at Sparkle about the Doing Actual Work In His Office thing, but the truth was, now that Atton knew he had one, he figured he should at least show some sign of responsibility and have, like, office hours or something.

His sudden attack of responsibility lasted all of fifteen minutes, mind you. That's about when he propped his feet up on his desk, put on some mind-numbingly stupid action holo and dumped his attempt at a syllabus back into a drawer. Whatever. If people needed him they'd be able to find him or something and that was good enough.

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