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

To call today a disaster was kind of understating the day, Anakin thought as he let himself in and eased out of his robe on his way to the bathroom. Discussions with John and Jaina had gone...not well...and the junkyard had started badly and ended worse.

The shirts underneath his robe were probably beyond mending, he decided as he used them to wipe the blood away from the gashes on his back, and he'd be sleeping on his stomach the next few nights, but for a guy who'd been electrocuted and toss around like a rag doll, he was looking fairly good.

Except for the black eye. Rory was probably going to notice that.

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 deciding on the perfect Valentine's Day gift for Rory.

And definitely not plotting how to have a Talk with a lightning-tossing Jedi or neutralizing a student with a penchant for speaking in the third person.

The door was open.