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Wellspring Arms & Meditation Center, Saturday

Kerrigan was entertaining the very real and comforting possibility of quitting her job. On one hand, running a workshop wasn't necessarily going to get her a full-time teaching job again-- and so much depended on the students' reactions.

On the other hand, she had Harriet on her side, and she still had no idea what to make of the boss. So, perhaps...

Kerrigan opened up the store late, and spent most of the day ambling through her thoughts. It was giving her a headache.

She didn't really feel like going to the picnic.

[ open! ]

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She's mostly looking thoughtful.

"Heya, Kerrigan," Murdock greeted. "How's it hangin'?" Seemed like a good opportunity to drop in on his way from the picnic.

"Everything is 'hangin' like it usually is," Kerrigan said, turning her head sideways to meet the sound from the door. "Hey, Murdock."

"I reckon that's good," he grinned. "I hear you're runnin' a workshop this next term." He came the rest of the way in and leaned against the counter. "Sounds like it'll be an interestin' one."

"I'm just sharing some valuable experience I've done up over the years," she said, looking straight at him. "Dean Jones insisted."

"I think that's how a lot of these workshops go. Not so much teachin' a subject as passin' on knowledge. Preferably stuff the kids won't have to use, but," he shrugged slightly, "given where some of them come from, that's doubtful."

"Former soldier?" he asked carefully.

She looked at him for a long moment. "Special Ops," Kerrigan said, after it had passed. "I used to teach Tactics here."

Whatever it was that she was trying to figure out, Murdock didn't flinch under her gaze. He nodded briefly, "Got a few friends that did the same sort of thing. Gave 'em a hand now and then myself. Tactics are darn useful."

"You could make a case for them being downright necessary," she snorted. "You teach these kids tactics for a while, and you'll find that even 'don't get killed' is a novelty to them."

"Seems to depend on the kid," he replied a little gruffly. "Some seem rather defensive about their skins. Even virtually."

"You sound like a man who has a few stories," she said, lifting her eyebrows at him.

He shrugged, "Only a few." One, actually. At least as far as students went. "Probably got a few yourself, I'd bet."

"Just think hard enough and I'll hear it," she said, noncommitally. Eventually, you got over the whole telepathy thing-- and Fandom had been alright with it.

And she'd stopped caring.

"And I know enough to know that if you have anyone named Lee Adama in your class, they should get detention as often as possible."

He arched an eyebrow at that. Telepathy wasn't something he'd run into very much yet. Like possibly not at all. ~~at least I don't think he has?~~ "Really? Like mind readin'? Interestin'." And perhaps he wasn't ready to let folks into his head yet either. Hell, he couldn't figure out his own head half the time and tended to avoid it.

He chuckled, "Ain't heard of him. I got me a John Sheppard, though. Who *did* manage to score himself a detention. Know him?"

"Don't think I've ever met the boy," she answered, honestly. "What did he do, fall on his head?" She'd be more than happy to drop the subject of the telepathy again-- the constant influx of stimuli beyond the usual had been getting to her over the past few weeks.

"He's a smart kid. Too dang smart, if you get my meaning. Gave me a bit of back-talk after not followin' the class instructions." He gave a tiny bit of a shrug, "I didn't mind the not followin' directions, honestly. It was the attitude I could've done without."

And he'd had enough dumped on him over the past week that he could barely keep himself straight sometimes. How handy it was to just push everything aside for a while. Slap a few walls up and deal with it later.

"Sometimes they give you the attitude and they don't stop giving," Kerrigan said, not thinking of anyone in particular.

Or maybe she was. "Sometimes, you just have to stick 'em to a wall until the attitude bleeds out." And that was still an entertaining memory, if nothing else.

"That seemed to be the case. Stick 'em to a wall?" he grinned. "I'll have to keep that in mind for next time."

"You should ask Lee Adama about the wall, some day," she said, with a wry smirk, "If you ever meet the little bastard."

"If I ever run into him, I'll be sure to do that," he smirked back. "Sounds like a fun kinda kid."

Edited 2008-07-06 04:57 (UTC)

"You'd think so," she returned, with an eyeroll, "He's a brat."

[ g'niiight! ]

That sparked a laugh. "Definitely gonna keep an eye for him then. Particularly if he ever shows up in my class. I'll remind him about walls," he snickered.

After attending the picnic, Worf headed over to his usual hang out and nodded at Kerrigan as he entered.

"The room is open," Kerrigan told him, without looking up. "Have fun, and so on."

Free for all to mod.

Worf entered the meditation room and went through his usual mok'bara routine.

He resisted the urge to knock over one of the plants.

Only accessible with permission.

So, let's say a certain someone (ie me) has a party tonight.

SP... might be happenin' here.

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Wellspring Arms & Meditation Center, Saturday

Talk to Kerrigan

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Meditation Room

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Shooting Rage

OOC