A scholarly man with maybe one robe layer too many flopped into his chair and plopped his feet on his desk with a heavy thud. "Off. Everything needs to come off."

"Everything?" A woman's voice rang from the side.

"When did you get here?" He shot a lazy, low-effort glare at the interloper as she approached. "Never mind, I don't care."

"Good." Without warning, she grabbed one of his boots and started tugging on it. "You could have started by taking your boots off-"

"What are you doing? You're going to take my entire foot off- you know what, fine, just take my foot, I don't need it where I'm going anyway-"

"What are you talking about-"

The door swung open as a young man's voice followed. "Professor, sorry to bother you-"

The scene froze in a tableau of of the student staring at his professor and the woman yanking his boot off.

"Since when do you not know how to knock?" the professor groaned, dragging his hand down his face.

"Do... you need help?" His student looked from the professor to his partner and back, puzzled.

"It's fine, I'm just helping him take his shoes off today," the woman teased, adjusting her grip on the captive foot.

"If you have a question, please just ask it," the professor grunted, half-heartedly trying to tug his foot away.

"Should I leave you two to it, or should I finish taking your boots off first?"

"Keep this up and I'll have you stand there with my boots while we're discussing his question."

The scene before you fades, returning you to the Existential Weave.