saddeserthermit (
saddeserthermit) wrote2015-10-03 08:54 am
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Office #8, Saturday
It was customary to be in one's office during Parents Weekend, or so Obi-Wan had been told. So he had opted to do so.
When he got to the door of his office that morning, however, he felt the strangest sense of dread. For a moment, his hand hovered over the doorknob. "I have a bad feeling about this," he said.
He pushed. The door opened. A ridiculous burst of glitter hit him in the face. And the tunic. And the boots.
Students and teachers coming to visit would find Obi-Wan in the center of a glitter-filled room, his entire front covered in the stuff. Pinching the bridge of his nose.
[[ open! ]]
When he got to the door of his office that morning, however, he felt the strangest sense of dread. For a moment, his hand hovered over the doorknob. "I have a bad feeling about this," he said.
He pushed. The door opened. A ridiculous burst of glitter hit him in the face. And the tunic. And the boots.
Students and teachers coming to visit would find Obi-Wan in the center of a glitter-filled room, his entire front covered in the stuff. Pinching the bridge of his nose.
[[ open! ]]
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He gave a vague wave. Anakin knew what he meant.
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"I've never seen you conduct a non-lightsaber-related negotiation so quickly since," Anakin said.
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Anakin was anti formal attire at all times.
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You know, like hiding the laughter behind a beard.
He scowled at the heap of glitter on his foot. "Can you at least get a broom?"
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"Or this?"
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Hopefully not onto a guest.
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Patting the front of his robes so more of the glitter fell out.
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