Library [10/30]

[furnaceface]

Okay, whoever it was who was adding more Halloween decorations through the course of the week was officially Jonothon's favourite coworker. He'd brought in an armload of decorations, even if tomorrow was the day, because... well, one could never over-decorate for Halloween, damn it.

Were the blacklights and the eerie sounds CD too much? Frankly, Jono didn't care. The pumpkin was a nice touch, if he did say so himself.

So there.

[OCD free! Sorry I'm a smidgen late. Today was a "Sleep in and then miss the bus and then miss another bus omg AAAH" kind of day.]

Comments

[death-of-hope.livejournal.com]

"Any time it looks like someone let a demented art student loose in Special Collections? That's usually me," she admitted. "Especially if there's glitter involved."

[furnaceface]

//Special Collections probably appreciates the attention,// Jonothon mused, idly reaching across the desk to flick a rubber spider toward her. //I'm still relatively new, myself. I can't say I've spent much time in that particular corner of the library.//

[death-of-hope.livejournal.com]

"They warned you it's sentient, right?" she asked, wandering around before climbing on on the AV shelves to deposit her green glowing friend right on top. Perfect. "If Dr. Jones wants you to go in to return a book, say no. They didn't really get off to a good start, it and might take it out on you."

[furnaceface]

//But it gets along with you?// Jono was actually curious, now. Sentient Special Collections rooms seemed about as normal as sentient mists and blokes with fire where their faces went, and so the curiosity was more placed around that one simple fact-- that he was getting a warning from someone who had just professed to leave glitter about in there every now and then.

[death-of-hope.livejournal.com]

"We have an understanding. I chase the sentient dust bunnies and occasionally leave offerings of baked goods, and I can usually get in-and-out with a minimal amount of getting screwed with," she replied cheerfully. "I've been here three years now, so it's used to me."

[furnaceface]

//Baked goods,// Jono echoed, raising an eyebrow. //See, and now I think I need to ask how exactly it chooses to screw around with people in th'first place, on the chance that I do have to venture in there at one point or another, luv.//

Most rooms did not demand baked goods. Sentient or otherwise. Right?

[death-of-hope.livejournal.com]

"If you were a sentient and mildly anthropomorphic repository of estoric knowledge, how else would you amuse yourself?" Anemone asked. "I mean, no one ever just comes to chat, they always want something, so you move the shelves around and dump snakes on them or change the weather, and there's things that live in there. And they're hungry."

[furnaceface]

//...Fair enough.// Jono flicked another spider, absently, and then he shrugged. //If nothin' else, I suppose being pushed around by Special Collections would make for an interesting shift, hm?//

He was totally making that mental note: Baked goods.

[death-of-hope.livejournal.com]

"If you're in Special Collections, it's already an interesting shift," she commented wryly. "I go in to clean, but I'm crazy. Most of the time it's locked up tight, unless there's some sort of emergency."

[furnaceface]

'But I'm crazy.' That was not a phrase that Jono heard often, really. At least, not said quite so casually.

//Th'more yer talk about it, yer know, the more I want to see this for myself?//

Because apparently, Jono was also crazy.

[death-of-hope.livejournal.com]

Anemone shrugged. "Suit yourself," she laughed. "But I won't be held responsible when evil cannibal kittens end up chasing you out."

[furnaceface]

//I've faced worse,// Jono decided.

Oh, he was so going to go in there. And he was so going to regret it, wasn't he?