Library, [12/05]

[furnaceface]

There wasn't, so far as Jono could tell, anything amiss in the library, today.

There was the usual bit of weirdness. The aisles that seemed to have minds of their own were shuffling themselves about more often than usual today, almost as if they felt that they had something to compete with. But really, so long as Jonothon went down them wielding a damp cloth and promising to dust, they tended to behave.

Except for the area where they kept the cookbooks. But those always seemed to be a little moody when Jono was on-shift.

[Open!]

Food Appreciation [Week 14, Period 4, Mon. 12/06]

[missed-the-gate.livejournal.com]

John looked tired as he greeted the class this morning, but still he was there, despite plans to be gone shortly. "Yeah, weird shit happening on island means I didn't make it to the store this morning. So you guys get to suffer like I had to on the plane back from Colorado. Apparently there's a rash of people eating their way through things, writing books about how it goes, and then someone thinking it was a great idea to make a movie about it. This one is about a decent chick who eats her way around the world, breaking hearts as well as belt buckles." John picked up the remote, causing the lights to dim and the previews to begin. "Now, I won't blame anyone who'd rather leave and see what's going on outside, just remember to tell someone where you're going and avoid wearing meat and ranch dressing for clothes. It doesn't end as well as you might think. Those of you who stay, have some popcorn and enjoy the show!"

Library, Monday (12/6)

[ancientbschamp.livejournal.com]

The volume of Edgar Allan Poe's complete works (unabridged) that was sitting on the desk this morning once Gabrielle had arrived and gotten the coffee brewed seemed perfectly innocuous, and Gabrielle, out of habitual literary curiosity, had to pick it up and page through it. Naturally.

She put it down quickly enough; Karla hadn't come back to the room last night and, despite her best efforts to convince herself to the contrary, that circumstance was a little worrying. (It could have been perfectly innocuous, sure, but given her roommate's track record, if you played the percentages . . . yeah.)

"You're not helping," she told the book as she snapped it shut and carried it back into the stacks for reshelving. As a parting shot, just after she'd reshelved it and begun to walk away, she added over her shoulder, "You're way too gloomy."

Halfway back to the desk she had to pause, blink, and shake her head. There was no way she'd heard a faint snarky retort from it. That would've been silly.

"Great, now I'm worried enough that I'm hearing things . . ."

The rest of her shift might very well be loaded with occasional suspicious looks back toward the stacks, but at least she didn't hear anything else. She didn't think so, anyway.