A bit too insane

Right, so the sad thing was that Tyler had been on this merry-go-round called Fandom long enough that when he woke up female, he just figured he was past due for it. The only surprise was that instead of looking like that blonde cheerleader chick, he'd gained wavy chestnut hair and cheekbones to die for.

If he had to be a girl, this didn't suck as a way to look. After fruitlessly trying to reach Tony (Tyler was pretty sure he was sulking, for which Tyler wouldn't blame him), he went for a run, showered, and came to his office to do some work. He had a final to plan whether he had boobs or not.

[Open office, of course!]

The good thing about radio sharing how everyone kept falling asleep was that it made Tyler even more sure this wasn't a new and interesting form of his personal craziness.

Didn't make the dreams easier, though. Not when they were about torture, inappropriate interactions with students, stalking an ex-girlfriend, "science," and more torture. And sex with Veronica, which was its own kind of torture to think about.

The worst of it was, he could never be completely sure about the personal craziness thing. He had a long history of doing stuff he couldn't remember. That's why he was coming to stay with Tony; Jarvis could keep an eye on him overnight and sound an alarm if he ... well. If he went crazy.

It was, of course, totally about Jarvis.

"Thanks for letting me crash," he told Tony, mostly as a formality. It wasn't like he didn't end up over there pretty often anyhow.

[For he who lives there.]

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.]

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 was cranky when he got to work, and had debated just staying home with the phone unplugged. It would spare him students randomly trying to get in touch to either hit on him, ask to kill things, or just be very confusing.

But home would mean eventually dealing with Lindsay. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew he didn't want to see her mad.

So he came to work and spent a lot of his morning just staring at the pile of papers on his desk. He was sure something in them would make sense, eventually.

[OOC: Open office! Tony thread going NWS.]

Due to sheer boredom, Tyler had helped the pony up the stairs to his room.

Tony hadn't even complained too much.

He slumped on the floor of his room, back against the wall, flipping through some book about diseases and scratching the pony's ears every so often. He was wearing his new t-shirt because it was really freaking soft.

Definitely not the most exciting day before Christmas Eve Tyler had ever lived through, but at least there weren't any Salvation Army carollers to annoy him.

Tyler felt sore from yesterday's move, but gratified to have it over and done with. He rubbed his shoulder absently every so often as he bent his head over his preparations for the next class and the science fair.

This semester had flown.

[OOC: Open door, open office.]

The first thing Tyler did when he got to his office today was to fasten the head of Smoochy to the wall over his desk, like some perverse big-game trophy.

The second thing was to grimace and swallow a palmful of Tylenols. Stretching and hammering things in was not the brightest idea given his cracked rib.

But being able to glance up at ol' Smooch's disembodied purple plushiness as he did his paperwork totally made it worth it.

[OOC; Open office!]

Another Monday, another day in the office.

Thrilling.

Tyler spent it browsing vacation web sites. He needed to go someplace warm.

The door was open, and he was rather desperately hoping someone would stop in to distract him.

It was Monday, which meant Tyler had to have office hours. So he was in his office; that was a given.

However, nothing said he had to actually work while he was there. Tyler was spending his time at his desk playing the stupidest Internet games he could find as part of an effort not to think about his weekend. (Though the kids' parents hadn't been all bad.)

His office door was open for anybody who wanted to bother him.