Marco and Alice cross paths in the teacher's lounge. (01/01 - 01/25)
Posted: Mon Mar 23, 2026 2:47 am
talking★thinking
Ally’s final morning class for the week had come to a close an hour ago, and there was another hour to kill before her office hours started. Not that she expected any of these students to actually stop by on a Friday, and not that she particularly wanted them to either. She was willing to help whomever sought her, but it was usually the same lot of kids: high achievers or those anxious to improve. The teacher’s lounge had a well-placed window that offered a view of the front court yard below. She’d spent a portion of the hour casting amber eyes between the view and one of the books left on the table she’d been snacking at.
She looked up from her book about the exciting history of Alore’s duchies when she picked up a new scent despite seeing no one coming into the lounge. It smelled like a mix of soap and chalk, which was an improvement from the coppery smell she’d been picking up since early December. More often than not for her it meant a spectre was meandering around. She closed her eyes, then opened them the moment she started hearing bodiless voices making bets about what flavor of Pale Talon a couple of the students were going to buy for the weekend.
“I wish he’d buy something besides the blue one for once. He gets so… blue with the blue one.” ”Did you really just call it ‘the blue one?” “Little buddy fell head-first between the walls, didn’t you?” “Maybe the living knows?” “Miss Alice probably can’t–”
A loose lock of hair fell from behind her shoulder as she continued reading. “It wouldn’t be blue raspberry or blue coconut?”
She could hear them jumping at a ‘living’ talking back to them. It was always amusing to scare ghosts every once in a while. “Warn us when you do that!”
“And let you have all the fun?” She closed the book and pushed it back to the center of the table, then walked over to the sink with her teacup to wash it out. A grin formed at her own word pun. “I can’t imagine that stuff smells appetizing. No… spirit ‘tastings’ planned this weekend?”
“Haha, real funny. Depends on whose offering. Funkazan guy has huge stash and he’s been a sad boy lately, so if he drowns in his sorrows might as well partake, yeah?” She didn’t answer but had an idea of which student the grouchy voice was referring to and stored that information for a later time.
“Is that the one with the reverse harem, or was that Winduria?” With the cup and saucer back in the cupboard, Alice took to wiping down the counter of the water splotches and coffee ring left behind earlier in the day. She rolled her eyes at the question. Not this again. “Hey Miss Alice–”
She cut him off before he could continue. “I do not know, I do not care, so do not ask.” “Why you gotta be like that? You drink the blue ones too, don’t you?”
Alice turned her head and glared hard in the direction of the voice.
“See? Told you he fell on head.” “Once again, <******** you!” “Don’t you have better things to do than ask me about these kids’ personal lives, like counting roof shingles or something?”
The shifts Marco had been working weren’t getting any shorter. Given that anything from giant fish things to full-scale invasions could go on at this place, sometimes back to back, repairs didn’t seem quite good enough. Finding ways to enhance the structural integrity of the main campus would be ideal. A pain in the a**, but ideal. Unfortunately, his hands were tied otherwise. He could tell the security detail to stab sooner or something, sure. That could be something he wasted his time on. Or, if he was feeling really adventurous, he could find a way to bring it up with the student body to watch in real time the 5 seconds of thought max that any of those braindead ******** would think on the matter.
Marco went to smoke instead.
Normally he’d go outside, but with the present weather, he’d taken to using the teacher’s lounge. It was nicer than the general staff lounge and, quite frankly, he’d put it back together at least once by now. Getting to sit there by occasion felt fair. And if someone tried to say otherwise? Unless their name was Marie Anne Gunter, that wasn’t really his problem.
Today, however, he entered to find company. The kind of company that made him pause to enter. He wasn’t really sure of her name, but she was a teacher as far as he knew. And, from the occasional passing by her classroom after normal lecture hours, he was certain she was one of the crazy ones. Always talking to herself as if she were having a conversation. Generally speaking, she was on the “I don’t need to talk to you” list. But today, it was ******** cold. And Marco didn’t feel like finding another spot. Crazy person # he lost count wasn’t his problem anyway.
Sitting down at a table on the other side of the lounge, he lit a smoke as Ms. Whoever did her usual routine of being really ******** odd. But it didn’t seem like a dangerous weird…so far. Taking a heavy puff, he let the smoke drift out of his lungs as he let out an exhausted sigh. Unfortunately, his plans of steering clear of her got harder when he heard a thump on the floor. Looking down, he realized his prosthetic had gotten dislodged during work and fell to the ground. Along with his cigarette, still lit. He had been so beat that he hadn’t realized just how loosely his limb had been moving around for the last couple of minutes. Worst of all, though, was that crazy lady would certainly notice.
”Excuse me.” Picking the cigarette out of metal appendages, Marco took in another inhale through his cig. Putting on his prosthetic could wait. Besides, if crazy lady got hostile, it could prove useful as an impromptu weapon.
Location: Teacher’s Lounge Company: Alice Wearing:Outfit OOC:
Posted: Mon Jun 08, 2026 7:04 am
talking★thinking
Her lips pressed together as she began to rue the fact she opened herself to this topic of discussion with these spectres and did not instead go to her office sooner. Alice did not mind speaking to them; she’d spoken to ghosts on and off her whole life and even did some a favor or two if she could swing it. At least in her office the papers would not ask her about drink flavors or the proclivities of the student body. They didn’t need her immediate attention but addressing them meant an open weekend to do as she pleased and one less thing to do before their next class. Despite a couple of crashouts and some other moments of sheer immaturity, the students were able to get through interviewing their project partners without any bloodshed. Presentations – where each student would make a speech to honor their “guest” at a formal event – wouldn’t be for another couple weeks so it was her hope these kids could keep their crap together until the unit was over.
But here she was, so…
“I counted the shingles just the other day. A whole patch of them turned pitch black!” “That’s called a hole. Tree branch put hole in roof across from here.” “... hmph. My vision’s not what it used to be these days.” “Maybe Miss Alice can tell the head guy since he’s in here now…”
Alice paused, then turned her head to look around the room. Sure enough, the head of maintenance was in there taking a seat at a different table. Rivera, she recalled. They had yet to talk and she chalked it up to a combination of having no need to and her ‘peculiar’ habits, namely the one where she looked like she was talking to people that weren’t there. It was both a blessing and a curse. The talks she had with spectres worked too well and not only kept unwanted attention from the living away, but it also kept most of the living away period. As far as Mr. Rivera went, she understood him to be a man thorough with his work and teflon coated when it came to students.
The smell of his cigarette hit her nose and while she usually found it disagreeable, it was moderately better than what she’d been smelling lately. One of the ghosts had stronger feelings about it, but it seemed he had stronger feelings about the bespectacled man altogether. Something about Marco sitting in his chair. “You weren’t even using it… no, he was there first.”
Just as Alice reached for the chair she’d previously been sitting in, she heard it. The sound of something solid clamoring to the ground. Was it his– yes, it was. Mr. Rivera’s arm. Alice turned her head toward the door with a glare. She couldn’t see them but they could usually see her, and the fact that the laughing ghost stopped laughing was proof. With a flick of her wrist, she’d hung up on them. They’d probably gripe at her later. That was fine.
She made her approach, looking at Marco and then down to his arm. It looked like it was made of different materials than ones she’d seen before back at home, and possibly more delicate, more intricate. Then again, would it be so delicate considering his line of work? Alice’s eyes flicked back up to him. “Can I pick this up for you?” Prosthetic or not, it was still his arm. It only felt right to ask before touching.
“I could try to help you put it back on too, unless you’re not comfortable with that.”
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