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.]

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[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.

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

"Someone to show me where the coffeemaker is," Henry said, then settled in a chair and gestured for Jono to do the same. "Seriously, I'm a blank slate. Tell me whatever you think I need to know about the library. There's a bunch of paperwork in my office but I can't make heads or tails of most of it. What was the last librarian like?"

[furnaceface]

//I don't believe I ever actually met th'last librarian, actually,// Jono replied, furrowing his eyebrows a little as he attempted to puzzle over that one. Nope. Never met him. Time to take a seat. //I'm certain he was a nice enough fellow, though.//

Yes. Helpful.

//Th'coffeemaker is that way,// he pointed. He knew because the bloody thing kept getting in his way when he was trying to sort paperbacks. //And Special Collections is that way. Don't go in there unless yer wearing a helmet and bearing a bribe. Or a firearm.//

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

"Huh," Henry said, to the first bit. Maybe the last librarian was invisible, maybe he'd gotten trapped under one of the stacks in the librarian's office; clearly it was not meant for Henry to know such things. "Thank you. I'm going to assume you aren't just being metaphorical about Special Collections. Do they keep wild beasts back there?"

[furnaceface]

//Oh, hardly. Yer know what to expect from a wild animal. Special Collections is books. Nice, normal books. We are a library, after all.// A pause. //It's not what we're keepin' in there that yer need to worry about, really.//

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

".... I am on the edge of my seat with anticipation, here."

Henry had passed the part where he started to wonder what he'd gotten himself into, and was well into wishing very hard to be back in Chicago with Clare like a good boy.

"Things go back there on their own? Things I have to worry about?"

[furnaceface]

Jono squinted one eye, wrinkled his nose a little, and scratched at the back of his head.

//It's more like...// It kind of defied explanation, actually. //Yer'd almost have t'go back and see for yerself, honestly. Th'whole room has a mind of its own.//

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

"Right," Henry said, making up his mind to just go back there and see for himself. "All right. I can handle this."

The few, the brave, the librarians.

"Do we keep a ready supply of helmets and bribes somewhere?"

[furnaceface]

//Not exactly.// Jono shrugged. //Anemone suggested pie to me, once. I can't quite remember which th'Special Collections likes the most, though. Or if she told me at all.//

Nope, fairly certain she hadn't. Well. It was nice knowing this new guy, then.

//Want backup?//

Because it seemed both like a terrible idea and a very interesting way to pass the time on an otherwise dull(ish) Sunday.

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

Henry wrinkled up his nose. He shouldn't risk students, really, but he was going to have to go back there sooner or later. May as well make it on his first day.

"I have half a bag of Oreos and a hell of an aim with a heavy book. If that'll see us through, I say we do it."

[OOC: Back in a bit!]

[furnaceface]

//And I've got...// Duh, Jono. //... Nevermind. If we need it, you'll find out anyhow. But Oreos and a good aim sound as though they'll likely serve well enough.//

And to be painfully honest, it had been too long since Jono had found himself in a good tussle, and he kept meaning to wander farther in than a half-step past the door in order to return borrowed books, anyhow.

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

"If they don't, at least we'll have a good story," Henry decided.

Not that he was short on good stories.

He grabbed a few volumes of an old Encyclopaedia Britannica and said bag of Oreos and started walking toward Special Collections, curious about the adventure. "I suppose as the authority figure, I should go in first."

[furnaceface]

//Well, it already knows who I am. Yer might as well get right along with introducing yerself,// Jono decided.

Partly because there was no way in hell that he was going first, and partly because letting Henry take whatever Special Collections was going to dish out was sort of like his petty, very subtle means of getting back for that fainting comment that had been made, earlier.

[one-who-goes.livejournal.com]

"Introduce myself to the books."

And somewhere, if they could somehow hear this conversation, Henry's old colleagues who had always wondered whether he was all there were deciding he very definitely was not all there.

"Okay."

Henry unlocked the extra special collections lock, twisted the doorknob, and walked into ... what appeared to be a perfectly ordinary wing of the library, if one that was a bit larger than the outside of the school building would make it seem. He listened hard, but there was no noise beyond the distant hum of the vents.

"Hi," he said, wondering if he'd been pranked. "I'm Henry DeTamble. I'm the new librarian."

The books did not answer.

"I come in peace."