Professor Dennis Creevey (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} thereheis) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} ecorridor_rpg,@ 2009-04-24 20:49:00 |
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Who: Prof Creevey + Prof DeBura
What: Hears a knock at his office door
When: Late Friday night, after students should be in bed.
What: G. They're professors! Nothing ever goes higher than PG-13
It was late by any standards. The sun had long set, he had done his rounds to make sure all of students were safely in the dormitories, and today's staff meeting had concluded with him being bestowed the lovely position of drafting a plan of action to ensure journal security amongst the student network. On one hand, he was quite glad that his suggestion was being taken into account and he felt proud that he was taking a direct role in ensuring student safety, but on the other hand, it was extra paperwork that he probably was going to wait until the last minute to do. Sometimes, he procrastinated more than his students did.
But he couldn't procrastinate on student safety. Before he went to bed, he wanted to at LEAST come up with some kind of outline. A short one. Maybe a sentence or so. Hopefully. Professor Creevey had been at his mess of a desk for some time now when there was a knock at his door as he was aimlessly levitating a miniature Quaffle around above his head, his parchment quite empty in front of him, and his quill limp on top of it.
Taken aback by the sound, the quaffle dropped with a lazy plop onto the floor beside his books and miniature dragons. Scrambling to put his quill in his hand and feign that he had been working, he mumbled a hasty, "Come in! Come in. I'm here."
What: Hears a knock at his office door
When: Late Friday night, after students should be in bed.
What: G. They're professors! Nothing ever goes higher than PG-13
It was late by any standards. The sun had long set, he had done his rounds to make sure all of students were safely in the dormitories, and today's staff meeting had concluded with him being bestowed the lovely position of drafting a plan of action to ensure journal security amongst the student network. On one hand, he was quite glad that his suggestion was being taken into account and he felt proud that he was taking a direct role in ensuring student safety, but on the other hand, it was extra paperwork that he probably was going to wait until the last minute to do. Sometimes, he procrastinated more than his students did.
But he couldn't procrastinate on student safety. Before he went to bed, he wanted to at LEAST come up with some kind of outline. A short one. Maybe a sentence or so. Hopefully. Professor Creevey had been at his mess of a desk for some time now when there was a knock at his door as he was aimlessly levitating a miniature Quaffle around above his head, his parchment quite empty in front of him, and his quill limp on top of it.
Taken aback by the sound, the quaffle dropped with a lazy plop onto the floor beside his books and miniature dragons. Scrambling to put his quill in his hand and feign that he had been working, he mumbled a hasty, "Come in! Come in. I'm here."