Getting Comfortable (Doneele at least)

[Doneele Monolayre]

Doneele removed expired potions, tossed out a few crappily-made ones (she could do much better, easily), reorganized the lab--hospital wing--cleaned up, removed cobwebs and trapped various spiders in jars to examine later (she could probably pick up a book on spiders from the school library tomorrow), et cetera, et cetera... and, by the time she was done, the HW (Americans' tendency to shorten everything into acronyms had rubbed off on her over the past six years) had a sort of organized chaotic look about it. Perhaps a hundred empty vials or more decorated the sink area, and she had two cauldrons going at the moment. One consisted of a large amount of Pepperup Potion that was simmering quite nicely with a fantastic shade of brick and was rather inviscid--Doneele had wanted to try this treatment for colds ever since she first read about it after her revival, but neither Darren nor Teagan ever seemed to get sick.... What? Doneele read books on potions while her little pet read books on runes. There was nothing strange about her interests... The second cauldron contained a green viscous fluid that bubbled slowly. It was a Wiggenweld Potion. Doneele didn't expect anyone to accidentally drink from the Draught of Living Death or anything, but she did not want the sloth brain mucus to go to waste. After all, the best potions required the best ingredients.

Or the best brewer.

And with that (the Pepperup Potion required two minutes and thirty-five seconds more of brewing while the Wiggenweld Potion required another eight minutes and ten seconds), Doneele wandered into her office with a couple of white blankets (one smooth sheet and one rougher cover sheet) and a few pillows. She tossed them nonchalantly onto her desk and figured she could drag a hospital bed in here to sleep on for the night.

After all, Darren was no longer in Europe, Teagan was an unsociable and unfriendly brat, and this place had to be as good as any.

Doneele declined to sleep outside, considering the vampires and lycans afoot as well as her utter lack of transfiguration skill... And she was not willing to leave herself completely vulnerable by snoozing in the clinic room herself.

She returned to the Pepperup Potion, flicking her wavy hair to the side as she swiftly sifted the thin liquid into another twenty jars. After adding three clockwise turns to the Wiggenweld Potion, she returned, dating and labeling the Pepperup Potion containers with unimaginable speed with a few well-practiced flicks of her fifteen-inch wand.

Of course, two kids came in earlier after sampling some obviously spiked butterbeer, and she gave them something to make them sleep it off... She figured the fact they would issue purple farts and belches for the next week or so ought to teach them something: Try out new brews on other people first.

And then she sorted out the Wiggenwald Potion as she had the Pepperup Potion and returned to her office.

Doneele slipped her fingers into a slitted pocket of her dress (pockets were oh-so-valuable) and pulled out a white silk robe that could not logically fit there in the muggle eyes. (Muggles were fun to mess with.)

As she began undoing the ties of her dress (tsippers--Zippers?--were far too unnatural to play with), the door to her office opened.

Her office, mind.

And the door had been shut, mind.

"Do you mind?" asked Doneele as the ties to her dress came loose, revealing a surprisingly smooth back with only a few old human scars etched into the surface. Ribbons of dark hair rolled over her flesh as looked over her shoulder to give the invader a rather annoyed look.

She was tired.

Surely, that Schmitt fellow had places to be, did he not?

[Doctor Schmitt]

There was something distinctly off about this office that the Doctor had walked into. The intention had been to pick an empty office, while this office was distinctly NOT empty. In fact, in an emptiness contest, this office would certainly come into third, maybe fourth place on the emptiness hierarchy. Oh it was certainly TRYING to be empty, but it just wasn't, so it deserved points for trying. So, Doneele was in this not-empty empty office that wasn't his but hadn't been claimed yet to his knowledge but apparently had been in the interim time or somesuch while wait a minute why did something smell like purple farts?

Stripping. Right. Doneele was stripping infront of him.

Schmitty's jaw went slack a little in that moment, his cigarette slipping askew while remaining caught between his lips, perpetually smoldering as always marking his trail wherever he wandered. His eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of that afternoon's clarity creeping in. Not much, mind you, but enough to convince him that grinning like an idiot and slapping down the giant sack on the floor and chanting "HO HO HO" was perhaps not in his best interest. Neither was, perhaps, going completely straightfaced, tossing his cigarette out, stepping over to the dark Nurse and motorboating the ever-living hell out of her bosom. That in fact was perhaps directly contrary to his best interests. It would be fun though. Fun was good. Fun was fun. FununununununununBatman.

Instead, he blinked a few times, shrugged, and dropped the sack of snacks (Snacksack? Sacksnacks? Snakcthel?) down and took a drag of his cigarette, voice bright and lilting as ever, even in the twilight hours of evening. "No, I don't really mind at all! Seen plenty of nudity, not quite bothered by it anymore. I'm just curious what you're doing in my future-not-empty-but-intended-to-be-my-bedroom-office? I'm also curious why you're still here and not at home? And I'm curious as to why we don't have a giant squid....and why Unicorns can't trot backwards...and why my boggart looks like Hugh Jackman..."

Ooooh-lah-lah. Zees one ees mine, mon capitan! Zose curves! Zat flesh! Oh-ho!
Oh shove it you French twat. Why are you French all of a sudden anyway?
Why aren't you, prude?
Because A DECENT AND GOOD LIFE IS SOMETHING THAT I STRIVE FOR.
Come off it. You want her as badly as I do.
No. I don't.
Ze skinny blonde tart ees all yours.....ze real beauty here however...
No.
Zis fight, I will win.

His head was hurting. A dull pounding building in the back, comprable to a prisoner rattling its cage. A building crescendo.

[Doneele Monolayre]

Doneele peered at Schmitt as at least a dozen emotions flooded through his being. Lust. Embarrassment. Shock. Wonder. Confusion. He was utterly flabbergasted and clearly could not decide if he wandered into a good thing or a bad one.

He tried to keep up his manic facade from earlier, but he was clearly slipping. He reminded her of humans that stepped on black ice.

As if it were a single thread, tension reverberated from the so-called doctor.

"I could ask you the same," she answered coolly, voice naturally curling into a purr. "I thought this might become my office and bedroom, but if you have better suggestions..."

Holy fuck. This energetic moron was planning on sleeping here as well? Clearly, any companion here would get no sleep at all.

Her thoughts did not reflect on her face.

Schmitt practically dripped lust, and he was obviously excited to see her.

She had no qualms sleeping with strangers (she was not that ridiculously shy Teagan Monolayre, after all), and she had no ethical concerns about sleeping with coworkers. As a matter of fact, she generally lied with anyone who caught her fancy and seemed interesting. She liked sex. Sex was fun. That was all there was to it. However, she could only handle so much with this nuisance.

Besides. Where would the fun in teasing him for the rest of the school year be?

Her claw-like fingers reached for her wand and gracefully flicked it at her back, making the laces tighten once again.

"Of course, I was only planning on resting here until I," she continued, turning slowly to face him, words naturally popping out of her mouth like succulent little cherries, "found a place to stay. You see, my only family nearby is a rude little girl, and she won't let me in... She's nocturnal, so I suppose now would be as good a time as any to knock on her door again.

"Or I could just rent a room somewhere." As a failure at transfigurations, she was not sleeping outside. "It's no big deal," continued Doneele, fingering the white robe and lifting it up from the desk with the same hand holding her wand.

"It's only natural that you would get first choice," breathed the witch, flexing her bosom, approximately now only six inches away from the giant.

"If you'll excuse me?"

[Doctor Schmitt]

There comes a point in every man's life where he has to ask himself if he's a man, or a meerkat.

A man would stand tall, be brave, smoke a cigarette while playing the piano and simultaneously punching Adolf Hitler back through a time vortex to take down the entire Thul Society and save the day while co-starring with Bruce Campbell and Nathan Fillion with a cameo appearance by Bruce Willis trying to re-ignite his failing career with several nods to Frank Sinatra and Humphrey Bogart ALL while drinking Whiskey and riding dinosaurs. Because THATS WHAT MEN DO.

Meerkats on the other hand would survey the situation and then panic and hide in their little hideyholes fleeing from nature documentarists and other strange cameras fleeing into the dark recesses of their little Manors - BECAUSE MEERKATS LIVE IN MANORS - only to call upon their great natural friends the Warthogs to eventually find an orphaned lion cub and sing about how not to worry and eat only grubs and eventually send the lion cub with which they have bonded tremendously to go save the whole of the Savannah.

Somehow those analogies would tie into Schmitt's situation. The Other wanted out and to work his sick magicks on Doneele. Schmitt wanted to imprison the Other. So. There was only one option. The tall man blinked once, grinned, leaned forward, 'bopped' Doneele on the nose once, and said,

"Nope dot jay-peg."

And with that he turned on his heel and stormed out.

He stormed back in to grab his bag of snacks and then stormed out again.

And then stormed into an adjacent office.

He stormed back out again to grab a pillow from an empty bed.

That said he glided back into his newly claimed bedroom.

[Doneele Monolayre]

Doneele blinked, uncertain of whether to be relieved or bemused.

She watched him zip to-and-fro across her Hospital Wing. She did not recognize the phrase nope, knot jaepegg, but she figured it was unimportant. Either a modern thing or a reference or foreign phrase...

The witch rested a finger against her lush lips as she pondered.

The important thing was that she had a new makeshift bedroom and would not have to beg her heartless great-granddaughter for living space or doing something else that would be as much of a pain because it could only be temporary.

Doneele shrugged to herself, shutting her door as she proceeded to undress once more.

The doctor's streak of gynophobia felt quite out of place.