revengenotebook | Outside the Teachers' Offices [Tuesday, Never-You-Mind O'Clock]

Outside the Teachers' Offices [Tuesday, Never-You-Mind O'Clock]

If you think Paris wasn't taking Rosa's class challenge EXTREMELY SERIOUSLY, you had clearly never met her.

She was dressed in dark clothing--the better to blend in with the shadows, like a proper cat burgler, even if cat burglers probably didn't bring cell phones and graph paper to map out which teacher was in what spot. "Zack," she read from the door tag. "He's the one at the dog shelter. Probably hasn't rigged the door to kill us."

She wrote that down.

[OOC: For her partner in crime and anyone else who wants to get involved! SP is love, though :D]

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Vette tried really valiantly to keep from laughing. She really did. But the fit of giggles she was in before long was really, really hard to stifle, even with her hands clapped over her mouth.

A few moments later, and she managed to gather her wits about her enough to call over, "If you leave it there for them, you might be able to sneak out safely and we can try another office."

"I think one of them peed on me," Paris muttered, making a face.

They're puppies, Paris. They get excited.

"Sure, here goes nothing--" and she tossed the hatchet one way and fled for the door in the other.

Vette waited for Paris to exit the room, and then grudgingly closed the door behind her.

"... I like that room."

Oh, she would be back.

"Want to try again?"

"Yes," Paris said, trying vainly to remove some of the puppy slobber from her face or any of the fur from her black clothes.

It was definitely not working.

"Okay then," Vette said, grinning brightly. "Who's next on the list? Another teacher who won't try to kill us, maybe?"

"How about Rogers?" Paris suggested. "He's way too nice to do something to his office."

Oh, Paris, how wrong you are.

"Sure," Vette replied with a shrug. "Can't be anything like puppies, but I'm willing to give it a try. Lead on, I'll work my magic on the lock, and we can see what the situation is in there."

Paris consulted her paper, then led the way down the hall. "How much you want to bet his office is covered in American flags?" she snickered.

"I have no idea," Vette replied breezily as she followed along. "Is that some sort of cult?"

And she'd been here for over two months now.

"Depends on the year, really," Paris said, stopping in front of Steve's door. "He apparently dresses up as Captain America in his down time and, I don't know, passes out voter registration forms and copies of the Constitution or something."

"Two or three of those words made sense," Vette decreed, crouching down in front of the door, taking a moment to check the doorknob for traps, and then shrugging and starting to pick the lock. "But I'll take your word for it. He's a stand-up guy."

"And pretty hot for an old guy," Paris added.

"I'll have to get you to point him out to me sometime," Vette decided, and then she perked up with a grin as the lock clicked and she turned the handle without an issue. "Moment of truth?"

Paris took a deep breath. "Okay, go."

Vette opened the door and braced herself.

...

Nothing.

Then she peered into the room, looking for obvious traps. A tentative step in, and she was looking for less obvious traps, too.

"It looks pretty clear," she reported.

"It looks like he dusts in here every single day," Paris said, taking a step in as well. "If he has the hatchet, it's probably filed under 'h' in his filing cabinet."

"That seems like as good a place to start as any," Vette noted, glancing around for... well... whatever passed as a filing cabinet on this world. Was it those things? Were those things filing cabinets, or just where people on Earth kept their lunch?

"The tall one right there," Paris said, pointing helpfully.

"I knew that," Vette announced loftily, and then made her way over to inspect the aforementioned cabinet.

Ugh, High Galactic.

"Okay, that's A, and that's B..."

It was still a work in progress.

"Really?" muttered Paris oh-so-sympathetically, stalking over to the cabinet. "H," she said, pointing.

"Are you sure, though?"

Vette, stop needling the prat.

"Of course I'm sure," Paris snapped, yanking the drawer open and getting absolutely covered in red, white, and blue glitter.

Across the room, a computer screen turned on an a frowning Captain America stared out at them. "So, you've decided to break into a teacher's office--"

Vette blinked.

And then Vette started laughing, clapping her hands over her mouth, even as glittery confetti drifted down to stick to her, too.

"I don't know if I like this one more than the puppy room," she noted, "but it's still pretty great."

Steve droned on in the background about poor life choices and how bad prison was as Paris futiley wiped at the glitter.

"This'll be on us for days," she griped.

"Yup," Vette chirped. "And there's no way for us to hit other rooms from here without leaving behind a trail."

She was okay with that. This whole outing had been great.

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