Taking the steps by two, Padraic hustled up to the entrance of Ravenwood’s main building. Today had already started off on the wrong foot when his alarm clock failed to go off and he had to rush in to work; normally he was never late, but a long night of grading at home meant he’d enjoyed that extra time asleep all too much.
He’d just made it to the large hall leading to the classrooms when one of the students he was passing noticed him and quickly caught up to him. ❝ Oh, P-Professor Ratigan, ❞ their voice shifted his concentration and he shot them a surly frown, not once breaking his stride. ❝ Uh, someone stopped by your classroom with a delivery for you about an hour ago? ❞
Still walking briskly, he narrowed his gaze before glancing down at his wristwatch. ❝ A deliv—at this hour? I didn’t order anything, ❞ he huffed under his breath, then continued glaring at the student. ❝ Who was it? ❞ They shrugged, and he sighed in annoyance, looking ahead at the gathering of students around his locked door. ❝ Thank you, ❞ he grunted in his usual way, sending the messenger off with a dismissive wave as he approached his room.
Some of the students teased from the background at their professor’s tardiness, which earned them little more than a sarcastic ❝ Ha, ha, ❞ as he started digging around for his keys in his suit pocket. Unless he was missing something, he didn’t see any deliveries outside of his door. So either they slipped it under, or the student had been mistaken. ❝ Alright, alright, settle down. Let’s hope all this enthusiasm means you’re ready for you exams today, ❞ he sneered, immediately met with a chorus of groans from the group as he pushed open the door and stepped through the threshold.
Seriously, did whoever ran the show around this joint not believe in security?
Peter was still caught in fits of giggles long after they'd entered the building, absolutely filled to the brim with glee once the oblivious kid showed them where the oh-so-esteemed Professor's room was located. They almost felt bad for even uttering the man's name, noting silently that the student nearly paled before shuffling to lead them down the spacious halls. If not for their intense concentration, Peter would have given them a reassuring pat on the back; after today, they doubted anybody would be quaking with fear when it came to Padraic Ratigan for a long, l o n g time.
They had plenty of time to set up the minor riggings - nearly invisible wire that managed to hold fast, one secured around a bucket filled to the brim with gooey, warm molasses directly above Padraic's desk (raised high enough that, with the right timing, nobody would notice it's presence until it was too late). Another was attached to the wheel of his chair, the other end fastened tight around an already sliced feather pillow.
Oh, this was going to be something special indeed - if everything went according to plan, ol' unsuspecting Paddy would sit down, snap the wire attached to the bucket and be greeted with a sticky, syrupy mess. The shock would cause him to jolt back, snapping the thread fastened deep into the pillow and cause it to come careening towards him, covering the professor from head to toe in down feathers. Peter grinned wildly, knowing that wasn't even the best part as they carefully rolled up the world map along the chalkboard.
"A prank for the ages," they boasted, grabbing the step ladder they'd found in a nearby utility closet before moving over to hop atop the desk. One last tweak to make sure the strings were set right, then they were gone.
Their fingers had barely grazed the string when they heard a voice among the crowd of students outside - a distinctly gruffer, older one.
Fuck, fuck, wasn't he supposed to be running late or something?! Panic flooded Peter as the door abruptly opened, a sharp gasp vacating their throat as the ladder wobbled dangerously beneath them. Self preservation overrode any sense of cunning they had previously possessed, and their grip went to the only thing possibly capable of stopping them from plummeting to the floor: the silver wire. Which, while sturdy, shockingly couldn't handle the weight of a six-foot human being.
With a sharp 'snap!' it broke apart, sending him flailing back into Padraic's arm chair with a loud 'whump!'. Heart pounding in their chest, Peter had barely enough time to make eye contact with the professor before a cascade of molasses came pouring down atop them. Gasping in a mouthful of the syrup, they jerked back out of reflex, only to feel a hard smack to their face from the ripped pillow. As if to add the final insult, the whizzing of paper scraping against the blackboard hit his ears, body cringing before the mess of rotten eggs he'd stashed there plopped against his shoulders in a stinking heap.
The plumes now floating about the room almost made the sight appear serene. Not that Peter could even open their eyes to view the disaster, with the mess dripping down his face sealing them shut tight.
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