In Which There will be blood (Whodunnit appliers)

[knightmare13]

I sat in the class somewhat uninterested. This school had become passe to me now and niotghing warranted my...extracurricular assistance. It was frustrating. Even the crime element of this city seemed repetitive though it proved some amusement. 'God, why can't anything happen?' I asked myself as I watched the clock at the top corner of whatecver this class was that seemed to be mocking me.

{Twenty minutes later}

The class ended and I thnk I could've beaten a cheetah with how quickly I rushed out that door. 'Bad idea.' I said to myself as I clutched my ribs which were previously hurt a few nights ago.

I made my way to the cafeteria, I needed to rest myself for a minute before going on. I took respite in the far corner of the cafeteria, very little people sat back there and it's quiet...as quiet as a cafeteria can get anyway. 'God I'm bored.' Something needed to happen.

(Alright people, I did my part c'mon and let's have fun with this!)

[Mr. Seran]

ooc: LOLOLOLOL

To say that something interesting had to happen was a mute point to a certain principal/dean/overseer of things to be had done at this school and aside from his grammatical incorrectness it seemed as though there was a mystery to be had this fine day as he strolled through the corridors not spending more than two beats to acknowledge any child here or there, rather he had a duty to be done. An Objective of utmost importance.

The rather tall and scrutinizing figure of Thierry Durand; dressed in nothing but the finest Italian suit, shoes, and tie, managed to assert his way through the meager escaping students that parted the halls as he came. Scary? Perhaps, others would say far more menacing things about him concerning the teacher's strange nature even as he made it behind the partially transparent door of his office.

"G'd mornin' Charlotte," Mr. Durand would say tipping his hat courteously to his new assistant who sat prim and proper despite her curious secretary attire.

Without doing anything naughty this morning he made way to accomplish that Duty... Past another door he was facing his desk, the mahogany build to it signifying power in his state or so would be complimented on by a great many contractors. To the right was the first door one couldn't see through, it had a specific purpose, a specific duty...

A swift sigh as he parted the door staring at the porcelain rim of a toilet shimmering back at him, time to ...... Parting the lip of the rim he stared in his eyes narrowing in vehement rage.

DUTY!

Slamming the door furiously he turned back to his desk with a jostling speed of a thousand men straddling his desk powerfully as he grabbed the microphone with a sturdy grip bringing the mesh parts against his gritted teeth.

"STUDENTS OF PUBLIC HIGH SCHOOL #774 THIS IS YOUR DEAN SPEAKING. NOW WHO LEFT A FLOATER IN MY PRIVATE QUARTERS I WILL FIND YOU! BELIEVE ME I WILL FIND YOU!"

Low profile was definitely not Thierry Durand.