Mad as a Box of Frogs | Open

Classes had finished for the day, and Nicolae was cleaning up after his last exuberant teaching. Papers were everywhere, his chair was atop his desk, and he couldn't quite recall what he'd been saying that had require that. But nonetheless, he had to tidy up, or someone would come along and tidy his things up themselves, and that was not going to happen, thank you very much. And by someone, he meant Pierce. And by Pierce, he meant that robotic, cleaning machine who looked like a man. Nico had no idea why of course, but he simply could not find it in him to put trust into that man. There was something deeply off about him.



He muttered and mumbled as he looked through the papers, and wiped clean the blackboard. It was nearing the full moon, and that always tended to get him in a frenzy. Not in a bad way of course. His 'affliction' or 'condition' as many people liked to call it, was a very honored gift to him, and his ancestors. He had informed Kasch of it of course. Quite openly in fact as it was something, though many frowned upon it, he was proud of. He was given the job anyway, so long as he assured the headmaster no harm would come to anyone during his changes.



Nicolae would never of course, and he was mildly insulted at the thought in general. He didn't have it in him to harm a housefly much less a person.


"We'll have a grand old time soon enough, my friend. The thrill of the chase! Changing like the tides at your will, ever a lucky man am I. " he chortled to himself as he looked out the window. Was often he talked to the moon, in a manner one would talk to and old friend. "But first you see, I've the matter of cleaning up to do. Nasty business, this. Tidying. It's wretched as a boggarts hind end I tell you. I enjoy my messes. They're organized! A nice little pile of chaos here and there. I can't find a thing when it's all.....neatly tucked and stacked. How could anyone? Like that toaster next door. David. No human being, be it wizard or not is that clean. Something wrong with that one I tell you. Can't put my finger on it." he ranted on at the moon as he stacked his papers distastefully and set the chair on the stone floor. He then promptly sat and kicked his feet on his desk, steeping his fingers in thought.



Thought turned to wonder, and wonder turned to lethargy, and soon enough though he maintained his thoughtful pose facing the window, he was out like a light, dreaming of his beloved Romania. Then, as though pinpricked, his ears caught a sound, quiet, but right in his doorway. He didn't move, nor did he speak, he simply waited for his guest to announce themselves.