Hi. Technically you have not reached Temperance Brennan, but if you leave a message, it will reach her.

She -- I -- Temperance Brennan -- is on leave from the Jeffersonian; if this is related to the forensic anthropology lab, contact Dr. Camille Saroyan at the main number. Thank you.

[In creating this journal, the author has assumed the identity of a fictional person for use in the role-playing game fandomhigh, for the sole purpose of entertainment, without intending to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud either the person who created the fictional person, or any reader of this content. The author does not purport to be the creator of the fictional person, or to be affiliated with the creator, or with any person or entity with an interest in the fictional person. The author does not claim to be the person who is being used as the graphical representation of that fictional person, nor intend to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud that person by use of their image.]

The symposium had gone marvelously, from Brennan's point of view, and she'd been grateful to be back in the presence of other scientists. She realized as she got to her office that this was, likely to be all but her last office hours on the island. Her book was done, summer was over, and it was time to get back to her real job.

She opened a box and started packing up her books and less-important papers for shipment back to D.C.

[OOC: Open office!]

It was a boring Saturday night for Brennan. She'd gotten room service, and she was picking at the cherry tomatoes in her Cobb salad when the phone rang. She eyed the display; someone in the forensics department at the FBI was very eager to talk to her, to be calling this late on a weekend.

She clicked the TV off before answering.

"This is Dr. Brennan."

"Yes, I remember that paper. I wasn't aware your department was planning to accept my guidelines, which is a shame because -- you want me to present it?"

"I teach Monday. This is very late notice."

"Who else is speaking? Yes, I'm a great admirer of his work ... and I know he doesn't get out much ... we'd be on a panel together?"

"Cover first class air fare and I'll make it happen."

A few more pleasantries, and she hung up, then called her TA to let Dean know he'd have to lead the class, then went to pack. The youth of Fandom would have to survive a week without her.

[OOC: Establishy.]

Brennan had her back to the open office door today as she pored over some files Angela (her Angela) had sent to show her a crime scene and her best reconstruction. She hoped they could solve the case without her, but that didn't stop her from being on the phone 500 times to offer her opinions and expertise.

Eventually, Cam said she'd call if she needed help and hung up on her.

That was rude, Brennan thought, as she went back to poking at the data.

Brennan had her feet up on her desk as she perused the latest issue of Forensics Monthly. The article on identifying mummies through examination of stomach contents was interesting but wrong-headed; she'd have to write a letter to the editor about it.

The office door was open in case anyone needed her.

Brennan spent her office hours at her desk again, trying to write the conclusion of her novel.

Her father had called the night before. The heroine's stepfather had turned up in the finale and was being torn apart by rabid dogs.

If you asked Brennan, these facts were entirely unrelated.

[OOC: Open office hours, for all your Brennan-poking needs.]

It was perhaps best not to ask how Dr. Brennan had gotten the two young men sitting on stools behind muslin screens at the front of the classroom into this. It had involved persuasion, bribery, and flashing her cleavage at an angle Angela -- the fully grown one -- had taught her that was all but guaranteed to make men do almost anything. In any case, they were visible in silhouette behind her as she started to talk. (The boys. Not her boobs.)

"Good morning," she said. "Today we are talking about the practice of having multiple partners -- polyamory -- as opposed to having only one partner -- monogamy. Modern Western society is designed to support monogamous arrangements -- one husband and one wife, or serial monogamy through dating. However, historically polyamory -- usually through polygamy, or an arrangement in which one man has multiple wives -- is more common and has been prevalent in societies on every continent and every religion. It has lasted into the 20th century in Thailand, India, among the Bedouin tribes in Israel, and certain Mormon, or Latter-day Saint, fringe groups in the United States, and is still legal in several parts of the Muslim world. While many of these cultures are repressive toward woman, modern polyamory envisions an arrangement in which all adults are free to pick the sexual partners of their choosing without formal commitments. I'm passing out handouts on monogamy and polygamy for you to review at your leisure."

( Cut because I can talk to myself for a long time. )

[OOC: withoutverona and bitten_notshy modded with permission, of course. Wait for the OCD is up!]

Brennan was in her office on time, hoping for a quiet few hours to get some writing done before the spa day. She had to admit she was looking forward to the afternoon -- not only would it be a great opportunity for her to observe her fellow teachers at play, but her manicure was a little ragged.

She eyeballed the draft of her novel and decided she was close enough to where she needed to be on it that she should spend the day writing up her next class.

[OOC: Open door, open office!]

Call it chance or luck or the gods having a sense of humor; Brennan would have insisted her choice of work for the day was simply a statistical likelihood. In any event, she had hit the first big love scene in her novel, where an FBI agent tries to charm a few facts out of a murder victim's mistress and ends up falling into bed with her. The scene kept getting longer and more lovingly detailed until Brennan, finally, realized that what she was doing was writing erotica.

She reminded herself that a)erotica sold and b)she was merely providing appropriate fantasies to consenting adults, so she kept typing away. If the mistress' physical description had shifted to make her look a lot like Brennan, and the FBI agent was already physically based on Booth ... well. They were both attractive people.

The office door was open, and the forensic anthropologist was looking more than a little flushed as she typed away.

After posting a hasty sign on her office door to inform students of her whereabouts, Brennan spent her office hours in the lab closest to her office, a dead mutant alligator splayed out on the lab table in front of her.

She didn't have ideal equipment, and she wasn't a coroner or a veterinarian. She actually missed Dr. Saroyan -- it would have been good to have somebody to deal with the fleshy bits. She carved away at the skin, muscle tissue and organs almost impatiently, trying to get down to the good parts of the corpse. The skeleton would tell her what this creature was; the rest was superfluous.

In some ways, she was happier than she'd ever been in Fandom.

[OOC: Open to anybody who wants to help her examine the mutant alligator skeleton!]

Brennan felt incredibly pleased by how her radio broadcast had gone as she came into her office Friday morning; her one concern was that she realized, on reflection, that she might have gone into a bit too much detail on the students' sexual lives. But, then, they were all over the age of consent.

She was also tremendously curious about the structure of squirrel culture. She'd asked, but their chitters had not been very illuminating. It was another subject to study while she was on the island.

Grinning, she settled in at her computer. She should write, but Booth had emailed her some notes on a case -- a skeleton in neon warm-up gear found inside an exercise studio that had been abandoned in the '80s -- and she was going to deal with those first.

The office door was open.

Hey!

Apologies for spamming your f'lists, but I wanted to give people a heads up on tomorrow's Sexual Anthropology session. Brennan will be talking about the scientific basis of attraction.

In plain language: Looking at pictures of pretty people and talking about why they're hot.

In plainer language: Links to picspam. For class.

I'm letting y'all know way early for two reasons. First, I know some people can't exactly go trolling for shots of scantily clad celebrities at work and/or will need to upload the picture they already have in mind. Second ... I like the fourth wall. It's a good wall. If you're going to use an actor in use at FH, I would really prefer that you pick a shot of them outside whatever role they're representing here, preferably one with different enough styling or at a different enough age that the "Fandom doubles" thing won't be overly distracting. (So, if you choose Leo DiCaprio? This shot is good. This one, not so much.)

I am so psyched for this class :-).

It hadn't taken long for Brennan to move her files and a few indispensable pieces of lab equipment into her small, neat office, and she was grateful to have a space to work that wasn't her hotel room. She settled in behind the desk with a word processing program open on her laptop. If she finished this chapter (the murder victim's mother had to confess to the FBI agent that she'd been having an affair with a religious leader), she'd have plenty of time to get ready for class on Tuesday by looking for photographs that would illustrate her points about the nature of beauty.

The office door was open, and Brennan was probably cruising for picspam.

Just catching my newbies in this one.

( Temperance Brennan: The Forensic Anthropologist )

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( Jack Priest: The Vampire's Companion )

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( And me! )