Library, Sunday Morning

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

The library wasn't officially open today, but Henry had the keys, and he couldn't resist coming in on a Sunday to take a look at his new domain.

Once he'd gotten the doors open and taken a step inside, his jaw hung open until he told himself he was drawing flies and abruptly shut it.

He'd been in some big, nice libraries. He'd worked in one for years. He just hadn't expected to find what bore all the hallmarks of a first-class collection in a high school, even one that based itself in a castle. (And he hadn't even noticed the door marked Special Collections yet. If he had, let alone if he'd gone in unprepared, that jaw might have stayed dropped for good.)

He made up a sign for the front desk -- Librarian is in. Shout if you need help. -- and let himself explore. The outgoing librarian should have left some guidance somewhere, and, if he or she hadn't, he'd have to get to know the collection on his own.

[OOC: For aides, or anyone who wants to visit the library today! OCD-free because it is Sunday, weekend SP disclaimer applies.]

Comments

[furnaceface]

The new semester was almost upon them, and, not entirely certain exactly which direction was 'up' so far as his employment in the Library went, Jono thought it might be a good idea to swing by, just to check on whether or not somebody else might know.

This had absolutely nothing to do with him needing to get out of his room to wander while distracting himself from the knowledge that his roomie had run off on some dangerous mission or another, you shush.

//Knock knock,// he ventured, upon seeing the sign and realizing that he had no idea who the librarian actually was. //I'd shout, but it'd probably leave yer with a headache.//

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

There was a voice in Henry's head.

There was a voice in Henry's head.

He decided to just go with it and follow the slight, not unpleasant sulfuric aroma out of the biographies and back toward the voice's source. "On my way," he called. "Thank you for sparing me a migraine."

He would ask about the voice-in-head thing once he'd laid eyes on its source.

[furnaceface]

The source of the voice was back in bandages and leather today, after his grand attempt at fitting in and not traumatizing people yesterday had mostly been met with, 'it isn't that cold, stop hiding under your clothing.' And so, to hell with that rubbish, the bandages were more comfortable than an itchy turtleneck had been, anyhow.

The source of the voice was also standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, patiently waiting for the librarian to show up.

//Yer new,// he observed, once Henry was within his line of sight. Perhaps he should have gone with the turtleneck, after all.

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

Henry folded his arms right back at Jono, once he'd looked him over. "I am," he said with an evenness that was pasted on to mask his shock. "You're talking inside my head."

This was a state-the-obvious contest, right?

[furnaceface]

It absolutely was. Let's see how long they can carry on this way, shall we?

//I am. And yer tryin' not to gawk,// Jono pointed out, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly. //Mostly, yer failin' at it, mate.//

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

"Is it traditional to faint from surprise?" Henry wondered aloud, possibly losing the contest. "I don't think that's going to do me any good."

He took a tentative step closer, still almost gawking. "Hi. I'm Henry DeTamble. I'm the new librarian. How the hell are you doing that?"

[furnaceface]

//Rare genetic condition,// Jono replied, shrugging his shoulders dismissively. It seemed less messy than explaining all the finer points of mutancy, and it was still, essentially, the truth.

There was a brief pause, while Jono worked through whether he was going to feel amused at this gawking, or insulted. He settled on a twisted sort of cross between the two.

//I'm Jonothon Starsmore. Me mates call me Jono. And I don't bite. These are bandages, not a bloody muzzle.//

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

"Oh." And that was an answer that would make Henry feel like shit (and, consequentially, stop gawking). Rare genetic conditions were an area
of some small interest to him, yes. His face was apologetic as he sought out Jono's eyes, finally looking past the bandages. "Christ, I'm sorry. I'm still getting used to this place. Can I help you with something, Jonothon?"

He figured he wasn't yet included among the boy's mates.

[furnaceface]

Jono's eyes, set between his bandages and his fringe and framed by burn scars, portrayed well enough that Henry wasn't exactly a mate just yet, but that he was at least considering the apology. Jono shrugged.

//I was one of the aides here last semester,// he replied, dropping the previous conversation topic like a hot potato, //and was out and about when it occurred to me that there might be an opening left for a repeat performance this semester. Yer wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would yer, Mr. DeTamble?//

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

"I know that I saw some paperwork on it in the rat's nest somebody seems to think is my office," Henry returned, grateful to be moving on. He held Jono's gaze for a second before dropping his eyes.

"Hadn't gotten around to memorizing names or juggling who works when just yet ... but if you want a space and you've done this before, I'm glad for the help. What's your schedule like?"

[furnaceface]

//I've got classes on Mondays and Thursdays, this semester,// Jono replied, so very dismissively. //And I work Tuesdays at th' record shop in town. Wednesdays are for...// Magic Reserves. He was so not getting into that discussion right now. //... meetings with a small group of friends. Which leaves my Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays wide open. Can yer work with that, at all?//

Jono was a busier person than he'd thought. Huh.

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

"I can work with that," Henry confirmed -- a touch more eagerly than he normally would have because he was still feeling guilty -- and ambled to the counter to get a piece of paper and write down Jonothon Starsmore, Fri-Sat-Sun, worked here in fall.

As he scratched away, he added, "Do you have a second, or were you on your way somewhere?" He needed to talk to one of the old aides to find out a bit more about the library, but he'd already gotten off on the wrong foot with this one and didn't want to detain him.

[furnaceface]

//I've got nowhere in particular to be,// Jono decided. It was even true! //Did yer need something?//

This was about as close to an 'I'm used to it, I'm over it, moving along now,' that Jono was probably going to give. Starsmores worked in subtle and mysterious ways. Right up until they about-faced and shoved it all down your throat, instead.

Jono would behave.

[ancientbschamp.livejournal.com]

Gabrielle might have just come back from winter break, but in addition to looking her usual chipper self (albeit with an oddly wistful expression that might have had something to do with running into Perdicas while she'd been home, and having a surprisingly good time talking to him) she'd picked up more of a tan. Very Special Greece and all where snow and winter wardrobes were never necessary unless the plot called for it or certain costars' pregnancy dictated.

She'd noticed that there was a new librarian listed on the semester's paperwork while going over the course offerings, and, being Gabrielle, thought she really ought to stop in and introduce herself . . . and see if she still had a job. And there was a sign on the door indicating the librarian was in -- that was convenient.

"Hello?" she called, pushing open the library doors and poking her head in. It was a pretty effective shout. She had a lot of practice yelling Xena's name over the din of a fight.

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

Henry had emerged from Special Collections and an adventure yet to be played out and was trying to make order out of the chaos that was the librarian's office once again when he heard the voice.

No one was talking inside his head this time. Even though things with Jono hadn't ended badly, the normal speech was somewhat promising, though he was starting to doubt anyone here was exactly normal.

"I'm over here," he called, popping his head and shoulders out of the room. "Mind coming on back?"

[ancientbschamp.livejournal.com]

Well, Gabrielle was fairly normal, depending on who you asked.

"I'm on my way over," she replied cheerfully, heading on over. Okay, maybe her outfit wasn't quite so normal by relatively contemporary Western standards. Or most people's standards of the classical world, for that matter.

"Hello," she said again with a bright grin once she'd arrived at the doorway to the office. "You must be the new librarian. At least, I assume you are, since this is the office and all, and you're in it. It's nice to meet you; I'm Gabrielle. I worked here last semester."

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

"Hi, Gabrielle," Henry said, looking her over casually. The outfit was outré, but nothing compared to what some of Clare's artist friends wore in certain moods. And he had to give her a few points for the red hair. "You assume correctly. I'm Henry DeTamble. It's nice to meet someone else with library experience."

[ancientbschamp.livejournal.com]

"I love it here," Gabrielle said honestly, looking around the library with a hint of awe that hadn't diminished one bit despite several months of being there regularly. "So many stories and records, all in one place, where anyone can read them if they want. It's something special. There aren't many where I'm from except in Alexandria or Rome, or the ones in the Persian Empire."

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

Henry tilted his head and looked at her oddly. He was pleased by what seemed to be a genuine reverence for the books, but the combination of the outfit and the place names she'd mentioned...

"This might sound a strange question to ask a new acquaintance," he said, "but are you one of the time travelers the bartender was telling me about last night?"

[ancientbschamp.livejournal.com]

"Oh, good. You've been warned about that already." Gabrielle grinned apologetically. "I'm sorry, I just came back from a trip home, but yes. From what people tell me I've come at least three thousand years into my future. I'm from Poteidaia, in Thrace. Books like these were quite the revelation when I first got here."

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

"I'm seven years off, which seems on the paltry side," Henry said with a little shrug. It wasn't the kind of time travel he was familiar with, but it was still interesting.

He tried to remember what he knew about ancient Greek literature. "That's amazing. You're coming from ... Homer's poems would have been new for you, wouldn't they? How did you learn English?"

[ancientbschamp.livejournal.com]

There was no such thing as a language barrier if you came from the Very Special Greece, apparently. "I'm good with languages," she replied modestly. "And I know Homer, actually -- you know, they call him the Blind Bard because he has an awful habit of closing his eyes when he recites?"

Only in your world, Gabrielle.

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

"Really?" Henry was legitimately fascinated. "I didn't know that. My college professor liked the theory he was really a bunch of different people. So, that's not true."

At least not in Gabrielle's world.

[ancientbschamp.livejournal.com]

Truth and fiction in Gabrielle's world were separated by a very, very fuzzy line, and frequently did an insane dance back and forth across it.

"Oh, he could have had doubles. I'm not ruling that out," Gabrielle mused. "Xena does. He's a nice boy, though. Much less pretentious than Euripides."

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

"... hunh." Henry didn't think Euripides and Homer had lived at the same time, but his college courses on ancient literature had been a long time ago, and it seemed rude to argue about it with someone who apparently knew them personally.

It was time for a subject change, perhaps.

"We should talk about that more later," he decided. "So are you just visiting, or did you want to keep your job?"

Please, please let her want to keep her job.