Office Hours, Thursday

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal didn't much expect his students to need him yet, unless Anna wanted to start learning to use video or Isabelle decided to drop the class, but he believed in keeping good habits. So he was in his office, working on future lesson plans, pruning his herbs, and listening to opera.



[OOC: Open door and post!]

Comments

[furnaceface]

"At this point, I think I'll be satisfied if it doesn't end in dual gremlin bites and mysterious waffles raining from the naffin' ceiling," Jono decided. "This island has a sense of humour some days that are really quite th'pain in the behind."

That was putting it lightly.

"One of my leads thought she was a chicken for the first act. I think after that, I'm mostly just inclined to be happy if anyone dares set foot on that stage again."

[sharp_as_knives]

"Ah. I had forgotten you might face more than the usual difficulties."

...

"Waffles?"

[furnaceface]

"And syrup," Jono confirmed. He was wearing his 'slightly disgruntled' face, now, just remembering. "I was cleaning th'mess up for days. No idea where they were falling from, aside from 'up.'"

[sharp_as_knives]

"Less deadly than sharks?" Hannibal suggested.

[furnaceface]

Jono... had managed to completely miss the sharks. But he was a long-time resident of the island, so aside from a bit of a perplexed glance, he wasn't going to ask too many questions.

"Far less," he agreed. "But I'd argue that the damage to the carpeting was a fair bit more extensive than any sharks would've managed."

[sharp_as_knives]

"The sharks were at least confined to outside," Hannibal acknowledged. "The storm that brought them caused more damage, I think."

[furnaceface]

"Ah, so that's what happened."

There had been something of a fishy smell, now that he thought about it, the last time he'd come to the island.

"But that's generally the way of it around here. Even the most horrifying attackers rarely cause lasting damage before they're driven off."

[sharp_as_knives]

"Something to be grateful for, I suppose. And the sharks did leave us with a lovely dinner the following day, with plenty to donate to shelters as well."

[furnaceface]

"... I wish I could say that was even the first invasion that people wound up eating." But, alas. No. It wasn't to be so, so long as invasions happened around here. "At least the remains of it went toward a worthy cause, I suppose. I can't imagine many shelters often get shark donated to them."

[sharp_as_knives]

"No, I believe Mr Lyman's contacts had some questions about it. But they were grateful all the same." He raised an eyebrow. "Are there often edible invasions?"

[furnaceface]

"One of the very first that I was around for, back when I was still a student at the school myself, was a bunch of killer vegetables," Jono replied, as though it was really no big deal, no. "Mostly tomatoes, I think. There've also been walking mushrooms, and onions that would insult you until you cried if you didn't... dispose of them."

Jono had kind of blown his up. Using his face.

[sharp_as_knives]

"That sounds..." insane? dangerous? bizarre? "...very much like something this island would do, yes." Hannibal shook his head. It did keep things interesting, at any rate.

[furnaceface]

"That's one way to put it," Jono chuckled. "After a while, the novelty wears off some, for what it's worth."

Said the big blue-grey man whose face used to be on fire.

[sharp_as_knives]

"I find myself rather enjoying the novelty." Hannibal shrugged. "It challenges, forces me to adapt. After all, the day you stop learning and changing, you're dead. Or at least you might as well be."

Said the cannibal.

[furnaceface]

"That's why I always try to keep myself engaged with something," Jono admitted. "Especially around here. I don't handle stagnating well."

At all. The moment Jon started sitting around doing nothing, that would be the moment silent brooding mode would take over. And that was never a good idea.

... Except maybe for that one time he'd literally depressed himself to the point of immunity to D'Spayre's psionic-emotional attacks on the Massachusetts Academy. But that was something of a fluke.