fandomhigh | Library, [11/17]

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library

Library, [11/17]

Okay, so Jono was a little late getting himself into the library today for his shift, what with having to travel back from Vail and all, but he showed up as soon as possible, considering.

So soon, in fact, that he still had his bag of laundry and his guitar with him, both of which were sitting behind the desk while he set to work, re-shelving books and silently, very silently, chuckling to himself.

Once again, it looked as though he'd gotten off easy today, didn't it?

[Open library is just that! Open!]

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//Because I have nowhere to put th'breasts anyhow,// Jono replied, with a bit of a shrug and a roll of his eyes.

Really, there were only so many people that this bloke could be. His head felt like it was full of psionic ants.

//It'd be a waste of the island's effort to so much as try.//

"I'd better get mine back," George said huffily. "I don't care if they weren't that big. They were mine. They're not allowed to just ... disappear."

Being a boy was weird. The first dick she'd ever seen close up was her own. And it made her walk funny to boot.

//Mmm, yes. I know nothing of what that's like,// Jono noted, dryly. //This is Fandom, gel. It'll wear off sooner or later. These things always do.//

"I have a dick," she said darkly. "I don't like it. They look weird up close. And it's in the way. I keep bumping it all the time."

George apparently was unconcerned about TMI at times like this.

And the pained look that Jonothon was now wearing probably attested to the fact that he was realizing this, yes.

//Thank you, George. I might not have made it through th'day without learning about that.//

She was talking to a guy who wore tight leather. Just saying.

"Oh, come on," she snapped. "You have one. You probably bump it all the time. That's not all that weird."

If he had experienced it himself, clearly it couldn't count as TMI. Her logic was special.

//Do you frequently run around, smashing yer crotch into things?//

These were the important questions in life, really.

//And you just now realize that it's an awkward, bloody silly thing t'do, on account of having different genitalia?//

"I don't usually have an 'outie'!" she hissed. "I try to get dressed, I bump it. I lean against a wall, I bump it. I put something on my lap, I bump it. That's not supposed to happen!"

Jono was now... wondering why George was leaning against the wall balls-first, mostly.

//If you want my advice, luv, there's a sports store in town. They sell items there that you might take an interest in. Special-made for blokes who are prone to 'bumping' it.//

Or being smacked in it by footballs, or hockey pucks, or whatever.

"I'm not injured or anything," George grumbled. "I just feel like it's always there. It needs to go away. I still say it's unfair you didn't get boobs."

//If it meant I'd get a lower jaw, th'front half of my ribcage so that there would be someplace to put those breasts so that they wouldn't be on sodding fire, and perhaps the ability to breathe, I might not even mind being a gel for th'day,// Jono replied. And noooo, that wasn't a sour note at all, right there. //Sadly, the island didn't seem to think that would be a good idea. Cope.//

... Sorry, George.

"Someone woke up cranky," George said. Feeling duly chastised anyway, or complaining about a penis in the grand scheme of things.

She wondered if she'd stay a guy permanently if it meant being alive again. Probably not.

Which made her wonder if she was a dead guy or not. What? It was a valid question.

"How come you're at work?" she asked, figuring that was at least a safer topic.

//Because I didn't come last week, because I was on that vacation. Because I have a job, and I feel like a bloody berk missing one shift already. And today, I was late coming in anyhow.//

Actually, he was at work, because doing things that made him feel productive made him feel like less of a failure as a human being. This was generally a nice, normal follow-up to having to wrap himself up in leather bandages in the morning so that the fire wouldn't get out.

"I wouldn't have pegged you for the responsible type," George said, lifting her shoulders. She was always surprised when other people had that odd thing known as a 'work ethic.' "I guess I should have told my boss I was gonna be gone last week."

Maybe he'd fire her. Meh.

//I work two jobs and go to school, and you can't see me as being responsible?//

Jono's eyebrows, they were headed north.

"You're a musician," George said.

No, seriously, that was it.

Facepalm away, Jono.

... Yep. There he went, facepalming.

//Yes, and I played bars for spare quid, back when I still had a face. And now I can't, so here I am, working in th'library. And on Tuesday, I'll work at th'record shop. And somewhere in there, homework will get done, as well.//

And it would be glorious. Or something.

//Working beats having a spare moment edgewise to think, anyhow.//

"... Sorry," she said. Right. He was in mourning. Distractions were good.

"I think it's because of Mason," she said. "The ... irresponsible thing? You kind of remind me of him. Just ... with less drugs and more fire."

And a complete lack of being the world's biggest fuck-up, but that could be related to the drugs.

//I haven't met him,// Jono shared. Which was probably for the best, because he suspected that Mason would probably drive him up a wall, somehow. //How do I remind you of him?//

It was the accent, wasn't it? It had to be the accent.

"He's ... Brittier-than-thou," she said. "Died in the 60s chasing the ultimate high. Lives for music. He calls me his Georgie-girl, and pronounces 'girl' like you do."

She leaned against the counter, careful not to do any ball-smashing this time. Success. "But if you have Union Jack underwear, I don't want to know about it."

...

//I'll make a point to keep all of my underthings to myself, gel.//

There he went again, being all Britty. Was that even a word? He was fairly certain that it wasn't.

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Library, [11/17]

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