Dr. Janice Covington

This is Janice. Leave a message, but don't waste my time, got it? And if you're Jack Kleinman, I've got a little painful something waiting for you.

She could have gone home for Christmas, but Mel would have been spending it with her family in South Carolina, and well -- to put it mildly they'd never liked Janice's company very much. So she had stayed here, and had spent the past couple of days hauling trunkloads of artifacts off to her contact on the mainland, netting a nice price for them even by 2006 standards -- in currency minted no later than 1933, of course. But now, the last of her things were packed, the smuggling secret compartments emptied out, and the house as clean as someone who had grown up in open jeeps and dusty tents was ever going to get it.

A few more things to wrap up in her office, and it was going to be time to catch a portal and head for home. A few days with Mel would be a welcome change of pace before she headed for India and the tantalizing promise of the Xena White Scroll, just waiting to be found. She was so excited about the whole thing that it was impossible to sit still. Yeah, that'd make paperwork a bitch.

So -- kicking back on the porch with a bottle of brandy and a couple of cigars seemed to be the way to go. Janice was comfortably settled in the easy chair, boots up on the porch railing, blissfully blowing fragrant smoke rings into the air in between sips.

[OOC: Owing to various worldwide telecommunications issues, I have -- nothing to do today. Come say goodbye to the crazy archaeologist if you'd like.]

Normally Janice wouldn't be in her office for more than the first half of the day on Wednesday, but she had two good reasons to stick around today. The first would, of course, be putting the finishing touches on tomorrow's Myth final -- as evidenced by the occasional throaty evil chuckles, followed by a flurry of scribbling or typing.

The second would be the letter she received from Mel today, which as it turned out demanded a great deal of thought. On the one hand, the expedition she mentioned promised to be lucrative in the extreme on top of looking like a very, very promising chance of getting her hands on the elusive Xena White Scrolls. On the other hand -- there was no telling how long she'd have to be away.

And she was actually starting to enjoy it here.

Argh, decisions.

At any rate, the door was open.

Janice was in her office, surreptitiously repairing any damage that had been done to her bullwhip over the weekend. Okay, mostly she was trying to get the troll smell out, because troll-stench really put a dent in the familiar, comforting smell of well-worn leather.

Luckily for anyone within earshot, this meant that the PS2 was off, for now at least, and no video-game renditions of rock songs were in any immediate danger of being horribly butchered.

. . . shut up, that hadn't been on Easy mode, either, no matter what the screen said, dammit.

No, that really wasn't what sounded like badly butchered electric rock guitar coming through the open door of Janice's office.

Look, she was from the early 1940s, all right? The regular Playstation 2 controller was hard enough for her to master without having to get used to this thing. And she kept snagging her jacket sleeve on the stupid whammy bar.

She'd probably be glad of a distraction from this game, should anyone come in. Otherwise odds were good the stupid fake electric guitar was going to end up through the television screen by the end of the day.

[OOC: This office hours post is in no way inspired by the fact that we somehow managed to acquire Guitar Hero tonight. Really.]

A sign was posted on Dr. Covington's office door:



[OOC: As previously mentioned, I'm stupid-busy today and totally forgot about office hours until now, so -- tomorrow it is. Argh.]

Janice's office was a bit of a huge mess today, since she was madly cramming all the notes and research papers she had amassed over the past couple of months into a large bag to take home for the Thanksgiving break.

It was going to be interesting, heading back to wartime London to celebrate an American holiday, especially after having gotten used to a world without rationing. But still, for all that, Mel was there. And Janice couldn't think of having a Thanksgiving without Mel.

Thus, packing -- but the door was still open in case anyone had reason to drop in before she left.

[OOC: Sorry for the lateness -- busy day. Open, but massive slowplay for the next few hours since I've got a lot to get done before the long weekend. Silly international offices.]

Janice hadn't finished the last video game she'd played, but that hadn't stopped her from picking up a new one. That would be why she was now essentially glued to her desk chair, gripping the PS2 controller, smoking a cigar with furious concentration as she played.

This active battle system was a little tricky to get the hang of, and she kept forgetting to hold down the L2 button to center the camera on her target during fights.

[OOC: Open as office hours are, though occasional bouts of extreme slowplay may occur for the crazy doctor and the Jock Squad today.]

I totally forgot to mention this in the OOC note on the post itself, and it's kind of late to go back and edit it in, but . . . this week's class is open for the rest of the week if you want to play things out.

Come to think of it, that's sort of the general policy for all the classes. That I apparently never stated anywhere. *facepalm*

In a bizarre fit of completionism (which is so a word now, by God), Janice was attempting to complete a 99-level optional dungeon, level up all her characters as thoroughly as possible, and acquire as much money for her party as humanly possible, all at the same time.

Hey, it was a pretty painless way to spend her office hours.

. . . except for those stupid dragons. Ouch.