"I can't believe they let you teach."

Not that teaching a bunch of tiny people to fly hadn't been a blast--and it had, he hadn't smiled that much in a long time--but now things were as normal as they could be when he'd almost been hit with falling pastry walking to work.

Which was why he pretended to be very busy on his computer and not at all concerned about whether a certain granddaughter would be visiting today.

Anakin was in his office before workshops began, sipping coffee and staring into space.

Literally.

He'd gotten his miniature version of his galaxy up and running again.

If he seemed to be spending a great deal of time staring at a small volcanic planet, then at the calendar on his desk, well, he wasn't going to explain himself.

Vader had pushed his old desk against the wall next to a neat stack of boxes from the Isle of Ikea.

Now he was looking at the thousands of small parts for his new desk, carefully examining the instructions, and wishing he could kill something.

Again, not so terribly unusual for him.

[OOC: Open!]