Office Hours, Monday

[mouthy_merc]

Deadpool was in his office, being... Vice Principaly. Or something.

He still wasn't entirely sure what that meant other than plotting to take over the island for some nefarious purpose. So he was reading horrible RPS again.

It was starting to be a habit here, people.


[[Warning: super SP until done with work!]]

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There was a light knocking on the door, followed by a call of "Mr. Vice Principal Deadpool, sir?"

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"Come iiiin," Deadpool sang, not looking up from his dirty fanfic starring Namor and Reed Richards.

Mmm, hatesex.

And my, he had no idea Atlanteans were so well endowed.

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Glinda swept into the room, bearing a very full plate. "I heard you on the radio the other night, when you were talking about my baking cookies for Mr. Minsc, and I thought to myself, well! I have nothing else planned for Monday morning, so I might as well bake up a batch for Mr. Deadpool, since he was interested in them as well. And here they are!"

She deposited the plate of cookies onto his desk. "And where have my manners gone to! I'm Glinda Upland, and it's a pleasure to meet you."

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Cookies! Om nom nom nom!

...Deadpool composed himself upon being given and introduction. He could heat the cookies in a way that would put that damn blue monster to shame later.

"Aawww, aren't you a sweetheart." A beat. "These aren't poisoned, right?"

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"No, sir, they're not," Glinda said. "Why would I want to poison you?"

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"...we've only just met but I'm sure youll figure that out soon enough,"

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"Oh, Mr. Deadpool, I'm sure that you're not all that bad," Glinda assured him. Rough around the edges, certainly, in Glinda's mind. But not bad.

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"Are you sure? I mean, I could always make an innappropriate comment about your hemline," He offered cheerfully.

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Glinda glanced at the bottom of her skirt,which was sitting on the floor, and then back up at him. "I almost wonder what sort of impropriety you would find with my hemline," she replied. "Let alone where you learned the term hemline."

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"I watch a lot of the Lifetime channel." Sooo gaaaay.

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"Is this more of that television thing?" Glinda asked, raising an eyebrow.

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Deadpool stared. "You don't know about tv?"

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"Only that there was a show called Candid Camera that the other woman at Caritas last night thought was cruel and not at all funny," Glinda replied.

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"Well, that show is kinda special," Deadpool replied slowly. "But I'm pretty sure that's not happenin' here."

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"As far as I know, it's not," Glinda said. "Unless someone is pulling a joke on both of us?"

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Deadpool waved dismissively. "Everything is a joke. All played by either men with typewriters or woman with computers."

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Glinda blinked, and nodded slowly. And wondered what she could possibly say in response to that, if anything.

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Deadpool just leaned over to give her a friendly pat. "Thanks for the cookies, though!"

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This was ground that Glinda knew. "Oh, no problem whatsoever," she chirruped. "And I wonder... perhaps you could tell me more about this television thing?"

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"I can do one better," Deadpool insisted. "I can bring you one and some quality shows with which to introduce you to the wonder of the television."

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"Well, if it's not any trouble, then I'm sure that would be quite enjoyable," Glinda replied.

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"I'll even bring the popcorn," Deadpool promised.

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"Sounds like a plan to me." Glinda tapped her staff on the floor and a calling card magicked itself into her hand. She then passed the card to Deadpool.


"I am home most evenings, but do feel free to leave me a message upon the voicemailbox, should I have decided to go out," she continued.

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"..."

There were enough ellipses in the world to express this feeling he had now.

"If you alter reality, I'mma be SO pissed."

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"I don't believe I'm that good a witch," Glinda replied, "though I am a good witch."

Ba-dum-tish.