A bit too insane

The thing about leaving your office unused for two months was that you found gunk in the weirdest places when you came back. Like, there was something on top of the low file cabinet that was black, crusted, and smelled like the vomit of the lovechild of Satan and a bag of Cheetos. Tyler stole some gloves from his stash of lab equipment and started scrubbing away.

The office door was open a crack for any visitors.

Tyler wasn't making much progress on his lesson plan for the week; he had gotten dragooned into a tea party with a very demanding five-year-old.

Anyone who looked in his office door for much of the morning would find the anarchist leader of Fight Club sitting cross-legged on the floor, wearing a construction paper hat decorated with wilting flowers and sipping Kool-aid from a paper cup.

"Keep your pinkie out, Daddy," Estella commanded, giggling.

Daddy obeyed.

[OOC: Open office door to visit Tyler or Estella, or to crash the tea party.]

Tyler was hunched over his laptop, poking at ThinkGeek.com.

Tony's birthday was in a couple days. What were you supposed to get a billionaire, anyhow?

No, he wasn't going to chat up a supermodel.

The office door was open.

Tyler was grateful, on his way to work, to notice the students were no longer quite so young.

The bruised feelings in his muscle after fight club was familiar, almost comforting, and Tyler gloried in the aches as he settled behind his desk to try to plan that week's lesson. He wondered if Ino would actually come by to apologize, but he guessed not; she was just as stubborn at 15 as she was as a child.

The office door was open.

Tyler had gratefully shed the Armani for his usual look as soon as he got back to Vegas and was sitting behind his desk, trying not to pick at the bee stings on his arm as he worked on the lesson of the week.

His thoughts kept drifting to, "Nazi bees. Seriously."

The office door was open.

[OOC: Open office, SP warning on.]

The first thing Tyler found out Monday morning was that a coffin was possibly his least favorite place to wake up. As he rose from it, he looked less like an elegant vampire and more like a panic-stricken man who regarded his first lungful of fresh air as something about 500 times better than sex.

After he stood around just breathing for a few minutes, there was nothing more to do than to prop the other coffin in the room open a tad in case anyone else who appreciated air was still inside and scurry to his office like the mere act of doing something normal would make the last two days vanish.

He probably should have been preparing for that week's class, but instead he was gulping down coffee and trying to compose "Sorry I bit you" apology notes to Miss Bennet and Tony, rather desperately hoping they might prove unnecessary. He hadn't exactly looked like himself.

[OOC: Open office!]

Tyler's lip had been split over the weekend by a punch he had chosen not to duck, and it would probably be less tender if he stopped poking his tongue at it.

No, he didn't want to talk about why he'd found a fight in the first place.

Someday he had to find coping mechanisms better than picking a fight with some poor idiot. Stupid Tony, making him regress. Stupid him, caring what Tony did.

And now he was going to quit sulking, do some work for his class that week, and let himself try to be pleased that at least his phone message was good news.

Tyler made a pot of coffee, then started his day by paging through a text, taking notes on the explorers for Nathan. It was the other man's class that week, but he was still ready to add his questionable expertise.

He was also being driven insane by the chirping of a cricket who had somehow gotten trapped in his office. Tyler didn't object to bugs in theory, but it was a different story when they were loud and on his turf. Finally, he figured out that the noises were coming from underneath his bookcase. Glaring, he grabbed a dictionary and poised it on the edge of his desk, ready to swat at the creature whenever it emerged.

[OOC: Open office!]

There had been a shiny new packet of colored pencils in Tyler's keyboard tray when he slid it out.

That would have been more exciting if he hadn't been tending to a miniature pony.

A miniature pony with a hangover.

Tyler had a feeling he was going to need to talk to Lindsay about that one. For now, he was alternating between pretending to work and resisting his urge to film the hungover miniature pony.

[OOC: Open office, but weird day IRL. Should be on and off.]

It was a good thing Tyler had to go to work today; it kept him from wasting the day brooding about his weekend.

He went to put something in his filing cabinet and knocked over an enormous sheaf of science fair posters that he had somehow much like his mun forgotten to have put up.

Well, at least he had something to do before the ... thing, tonight. Until then, he'd sit at his desk and read a book about World War II Royal Air Force bombing squadrons.

The office door was open, and Tyler was slightly displeased his coffee was actually mocha.