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

Vader was in his office.

Alone.

On Valentine's Day.

Does "in a mood" even have to be mentioned?

The door was cracked open.

[OOC: Open for new mentees as well, though I am working tomorrow, so slow play is love. Conversation contents that occur with Aeryn and Rory NFB.]

Darth Vader was in his office brooding.

He'd handwavily gone home to scare the Stormtroopers working on the newest Death Star. It was very close to being weapons ready--something that filled him with a sick sort of dread.

And when he came back, his meditation chamber had been destroyed because he'd spent the entire weekend thinking he was a lion (except for an equally humiliating time believing he was some kind of actor from Earth). He'd given advice to some random cub.

And now he wanted to eat duck.

His life was terribly hard, yes.

So he sat in his office with the door propped open, poking occasionally at the musical instrument Rose had given him and tried to keep his mind off of what it had felt like to feel the breeze on his face again.

[OOC: Contents of conversation with Rory are NFB, please.]

Vader's office was back to its normal state of barren neatness. Ikea boxes were stacked in corners, a new and heavier desk was in the center of the room and Vader had even sprung for a comfortable chair (black leather, naturally, with wheels) for himself.

The other chair was looking decidedly wobbly, but Vader didn't want to encourage visitors to linger.

Or even stop by at all, when it came right down to it.

He sat behind his desk and stared into space.

Not that anyone could tell, with the mask.

The door was open.

[OOC: Contents of conversations with Rory and Aeryn are NFB, please and thank you!]

Stupid Boy - Keith Urban

Vader was in his office, unpacking his latest collection of breakable things from Ikea.

Amazing, really, how many he'd broken over the last few months.

Except not really.

The door was open.

Major,

Young Schrodinger shows himself to be quite...adept at learning the sort of lessons I prefer to teach. I have given him a project that I believe would be something you would approve of. The long-term corruption of a student here seems rather...tacky...but it really is important on a galactic level and is not necessarily something I could accomplish unassisted. Schrodinger provides me a very useful entrance point into the dormitories.

I regret that other matters will keep you from attending this weekend's festivities. I believe I would almost enjoy your company.

--Darth Vader
Lord of the Sith

Vader had a paintbrush and a few buckets of white paint.

And an all-black wardrobe.

Clearly today's activity--getting rid of the pink walls and happy face--was only going to end in tears.

Vader reached his hand out and the paintbrush began moving on its own, far away from his cape.

The hope was that the tears would be from someone else.

Darth Vader was in his new, spotlessly clean and barren office.

He had a cup of coffee he couldn't drink and the list of students who would be in his class on Thursday.

He was in a mood.

Not that this was a dramatic shift from normal.

[OOC: Vader has an open door policy. He probably won't even toss you back through said open door...]