Staff Meeting

[kahnooloo]

Cheese and crackers, pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes, and pies and tarts of at least a dozen varieties were laid out by house-elves along the sides of the Staff Room. And when all the staff had assembled in the chairs provided (a short chair was even provided for the Easter Bunny), Kahnooloo leapt up onto a desk at the front of the classroom and

Comments

[pufnstuf]

Puf had shiny boots and he was happy about it. He looked at them admiringly, then looked around at his fellow professors. Nobody seemed to have boots as shiny as his, if they even had boots at all, which some of them didn't. Galvanized, Puf leapt to his tiny booted feet, waving his little arms in consternation. This must be remedied! Charms professor to the rescue! And what could be more charming than white patent leather cowboy boots?

Immediately he began to remove his boots, a fresh pair appearing on his feet as fast as he could take them off. Boots for everyone!

When he had several dozen pairs lined up in a neat row, he gazed around affectionately at the assembly. They all looked like Jimmy, even the ones that didn't, and that was good enough for Puf. His pupils spun happily in opposing directions as he began to dance, waving his ponderous tail in time to music that only he could hear (if that). "Hi!" he hollered excitedly.

[office_michael]

Michael had no idea about the staff meeting, as Dax hadn't said a word to him. Smart woman. Unfortunately for her, he had walked by the room and seen the people milling around and the food and Puf's dancing and assumed there was a party going on. And if there was a party, he was going to crash join.

"All riiight!" he shouted, clapping his hands and shimmying his hips as he worked his way into the room and over to Puf. "Looks like we've got a par-taaaaay going on here!" As he was dancing like a moron, he noticed the lineup of boots. "Is thiiii~iiiiis some kind of ethnic celebration?" Michael had celebrated Diwali, and everyone had taken off their shoes there.

[daxtastic]

Oh. Dear. God.

Actually, Dax did not believe in any sort of monotheistic god, and if anything, this incident served as proof of said deity’s nonexistence. Across the room she sat, transfixed, mouth agape in sheer horror.

Civil war? Not a problem. Cardassian coup de’tat? Piece of cake. But Michael Scott? All Dax could do was watch. And wait. And perhaps hide underneath the dessert table, if the shock wore off and her legs gained any semblance of motor function. For now, she was just grateful that the man wasn't looking her way.

[heymrcrowley]

Crowley had spent much of the meeting doing what he did best -- reclining, being cool, lurking in interesting corners, and trying not to feel guilty over the fact that he hadn't held a class since his unpopcorning. Because, honestly. Demons didn't feel guilty. It was unseemly. And he'd been traumatized, or... something. Whatever.

Anyway, he'd gotten himself something to eat and was sitting over against a wall, idly eyeing Lily Evans and wondering what new merry havoc he should play with her belongings, when Michael came in. Oh, fantastic. Crowley liked him.

Seeing the look of horror on Dax's face, he grinned and leaned over. "Don't tell me you've never met Michael Scott?"

[daxtastic]

"Actually, I have." She closed her eyes, and rubbed her temples. A migraine was surely forthcoming. "He's my employer, of sorts. And my TA." It was not so much a whisper, as an admission so painful that Jadzia physically had trouble saying the words aloud.

[heymrcrowley]

Well, that was a revelation. And one that pretty much made his day. He raised his eyebrows incredulously, pushing his sunglasses up on his nose. "Really?" he asked loudly. "He's your TA?" Oh yeah. Jerk move. He was okay with that.

Except, wait, curiousity. "How could he be your employer, then? You've decided to drop Astronomy, have you?"

[daxtastic]

"He's-" she tried to remain composed "he's one of them, yes." And really, what more could she say about the situation?

"Absolutely not. The second I was hired, I attempted to resign from my position with his company. He wouldn't accept. I insisted further, and was promoted. I don't come to work, yet recently received a salary hike. And somehow, he became my TA. His fuzzy, purple fiancée was quite happy about the whole thing." She described the events in a detached tone, as if summarizing a mediocre book, or a sub-par made for tv movie. If only.

((Reposted for typos!))

[heymrcrowley]

Well, that was a fun little story. It sounded like it would make a pretty good TV movie, actually, one of those little comic quasi-Neil-Simon things. He filed it away for future reference. "Well, overall it sounds pretty good for you," he told her with a lazy shrug. "Lots of money for doing nothing, and you get Michael Scott in the process. How can you possibly go wrong?" He smirked, radiating amusement.

[daxtastic]

"I can think of many, many things that could go wrong. 427 things, actually. Possibly 429 and 3/4, if mercury happens to be in retrograde." She smiled at the slightly sadistic young man. "Of course, if you think he's such a valuable asset, I'd be happy to let him transfer to your department. Consider it a show of collegiate fellowship!"

[heymrcrowley]

"I appreciate that," Crowley said with the utmost sincerity of a born liar. "But I wouldn't want to pull him away from you. He's obviously a great fan of yours, if he couldn't bear to let you go. Besides, I don't really need a TA." He shrugged again and leaned back in his chair, crossing one ankle over the other knee. "Haven't had a class ye-- in ages, to be honest. I should get around to that."

[daxtastic]

Oh, well. It was worth a shot. "Well, should you ever find yourself in need of a TA. As you can see, he's quite the dancer. And you'd never want for parchment." Trying to think about anything other than Michael she said, "It's been around 279 years since my last class. Teaching Political Science to a group of high school students. I do not recommend it. This was before the changeover to data pads, are spitballs are very much universal."

[heymrcrowley]

"I'll keep that in mind for the future," Crowley mused, and then chuckled. "The, you know, distant future." He only knew Dax by name and class, really, but could guess that was what she meant -- he was pretty sure he didn't remember PoliSci existing back in the 1700s. Or, for that matter, high school.

"Maybe," he joked, "I can borrow him for a class on making magical parchment." Unlikely, but he glanced over at her as he said it, wondering if she'd take the bait and hope for it.

[daxtastic]

"Not so distant, all things considered. Thank goodness, because let me tell you, a 29th century citizen would not do well here." Dax smirked. Everyone knew what they said about 29th century boys.

Dax scoffed, and folded her arms across her chest. "You are a cruel, cruel man. I should tell Michael you suggested that, and see if he takes you up on it."

[heymrcrowley]

"Oh yeah?" Crowley leaned back in his seat and folded his arms, watching Michael for a long moment, obviously weighing this in his mind. His eyes were mostly hidden by his sunglasses, but Dax could just see through the sides if she wanted to; they were cold and bemused, flickering back and forth from her to the salesman.

"Go ahead," he said finally, grinning lazily. "But you don't even want to know what kind of payback I can come up with." He wondered if she'd do it. If she did... well, he figured he could find a use for Michael Scott.