uncertain_dume | Office Hours, Office #3, Wednesday

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Office Hours, Office #3, Wednesday

Some crazy person had given Kanan an office.

Okay, some crazy person had given Kanan a job, and with the job came an office, to better facilitate the whole 'doing the job' thing that was apparently a part of his life now. Still the fact remained, here was Kanan, and here was Kanan's office. So, no better time than the present to contemplate what lapse in judgment had led to this. Kanan had even brought a cup of coffee - he still hadn't figured out where to find the real caf on the island - and his notes for his lesson plans.

He would thank anybody walking by his office to not point out the fact that those notes were currently written on napkins. He'd been sort of forced to improvise, having found his way to the island with precisely nothing at all. But now he'd liberated a stack of paper from the main office and was transcribing his notes to the best of his ability. It probably would have been an easier task without the grease stains from the Mooby fries, granted.

Like most other aspects of Kanan's life these days, it was a work in progress.

[OOC: Office office office! Open!]

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Well, that was insight that Kanan didn't necessarily want to hear from a guy whose name he didn't even know yet. He frowned a little, looking less grim than Bob, but definitely feeling it in some part of him that he didn't even want to admit existed. Damn that part of him that cared. It was safer to just not.

Hell, he'd been raised to not, in a sense. Mostly in ways that he ignored blatantly now, but those teachings were all in there somewhere, deep down, too.

"I suppose I can't," he settled on, finally. "But I can talk at them, and maybe they'll remember that I said something when it actually matters. That's going to have to be better than never having heard it at all, until I can figure out a way to get through to him."

Bob was a super-cheery ray of sunshine, really.

"Sometimes they remember more than you think," he said. "And sometimes less, but those are usually the idiots, and I don't think he's one. Dante was a lot of things, but if he were as stupid as he sometimes acted, Bob didn't think he would be here.

"You could simply try an ultimatum - if he doesn't want to be there, he can leave; if he stays, he's got to at least pretend to learn."

He smirked. "That way, he can actually learn while he's acting like it's all a pretense. It saves face."

"... Huh."

That actually sounded like a decent idea, even to Kanan, who was usually pretty skeptical about that sort of thing.

"If it comes to butting heads with him again, that might have to be exactly what I do," he mused, blinking. "Thanks."

Bob beamed. "Think nothing of it. And no giving advance warning, squirrels!" he called out. You never knew, it might work.

Dare to dream the dream, Bob.

"So, who do I have to thank for the stroke of genius that might save my first teaching job, exactly?"

Bob grinned. "Hrothbert of Bainbridge, at your service." He bowed. "Call me Bob. I'm your next-door neighbour." He gestured toward the wall that separated their offices. "You?"

"Kanan Jarrus," came the reply as he pulled himself to his feet and offered Bob a handshake. "Exceptionally lost, but at least I managed to find my new office. I'm willing to consider that a win, these days."

He'd take 'em where he could get 'em.

"Any win, no matter how small, is a victory." Bob smirked and held out his hand. Because he was a troll.

And so, Kanan leaned over his desk for that handshake...

... And nearly toppled over the front of it. He didn't, because his reflexes were at least a little better than that, but it was a near thing.

"What the--"

This was definitely one of Kanan's less than graceful moments.

Bob just smirked.

And Kanan squinted, waving his hand at Bob's hand for a moment before leaning back again.

"Okay, either I'm standing in my office with a very convincing holo," he said, "or... uh."

Look, he knew ghosts could be a thing. And he hadn't had any reason to not think that Bob was standing right there in front of him until his hand had gone through the man. But just saying it was a different thing entirely.

"Or?" Bob asked, curious what the option was. "And what's a holo?"

"Or you're completely non-corporeal," Kanan finished, "because I'm not accepting 'or I'm crazy' as a possibility, here."

He was stubborn that way. But at least fairly certain of his own sanity.

"And a holo is... like an illusion, I guess. A three-dimensional projection that's technological in nature. If any of that makes any sense."

"Oh, yes. Short for hologram, or something like that?" Bob guessed. That seemed to make sense. "But no, right the first time." He stepped through the desk. "Non-corporeal."

"Short for hologram," Kanan confirmed, watching Bob walk through the desk with interest. "So, uh, mind if I ask what the non-corporeal... thing... is all about?"

He wasn't entirely certain he wanted an answer, but he supposed people had warned him that this place was going to be full of surprises...

Bob raised an eyebrow at him. "It's about being dead, mostly. Are there other reasons - no, don't answer that. This is Fandom." He waved off his almost-question.

"It's mostly the Fandom part that I was taking into consideration," Kanan admitted, raising an eyebrow back. "So... you're a ghost."

This was... new.

Then again, there were probably more ghosts in the galaxy than Jedi. So.

"I prefer 'vitality challenged human'," Bob said. Then, realising Kanan wouldn't really get the joke, "Never mind. Yes, a ghost."

Who was actually rather the opposite of new.

"Huh."

Most people would be a little more freaked out by this, Kanan.

"Well. It's good to meet you, Bob, however vitality challenged you are."

Bob grinned. "Wonderful! Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but your society doesn't get...odd...around the dead, then? Or is that just you?"

"Now there's a good question," Kanan replied. "You'd be the first dead person I've met who could still share his opinions on the matter, and frankly, I've had the sort of month so far that involves finding myself in the wrong galaxy while explaining to a pushy bovine that I don't actually want steak for dinner, so at this point, I'm willing to accept just about anything."

Just about. He still wasn't going back to Milliways for the steak.

"There are probably stranger things out there than you, anyway."

"There are stranger things than me just in my own world," Bob said, "never mind Fandom or any of the worlds it touches." He shrugged. "Some people still get odd about the whole 'death' thing."

"Hey, don't get me wrong, I'm not in any hurry to join you on the whole 'being dead' front," Kanan said, holding up his hands in front of himself. "But I've seen enough dead people for the novelty to have worn off, and the idea of death itself doesn't bother me."

He'd caused a few of those deaths, himself. They were as much a part of his life as any of the rest of it.

"Why, do people think you're contagious? We're all going to die eventually."

"Old superstitions die hard." Bob shrugged. Not to mention in his own world, the Council were suspicious bastards. "And not everybody likes being reminded of their mortality, I suppose. Even if I'm neither contagious nor recruiting."

"Well, either you've got a job teaching here, or you've taken up the single saddest haunting gig there is. Either way, I'm not exactly intimidated," Kanan pointed out. "If it's the former, clearly the school trusts you enough to let you interact with the students, and if it's the latter... I'm so sorry."

Some ghosts got mansions. Some ghosts got ancient temples full of relics, or libraries full of boundless information and history going back thousands of years.

Bob got to haunt the stapler.

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