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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"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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