fandomhigh | Library, Sunday

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Library, Sunday

Having recovered from the oh-so-strenuous welcome picnic, Face was hard at work behind the library desk.

If by hard at work you meant looking over his class schedule between watching some of the new holos that he'd 'acquired' through the holonet.

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"You're an actor?" Cassandra said.

Partly because the snubfighters thing didn't make any sense, and partly that meant she could stand here deciding whether or not she should radiate disapproval... ...more than she usually did.

"Not so much since I got this." Face tapped his scar, and since he'd found out the kind of people his holos had been supporting. "But, yeah, ever since I was a kid. Pretty famous too."

He'd had a definite article in his nickname, they didn't just hand those out.

The Iron Bull would argue that point, actually. (He was very fond of his definite article. Not that Cassandra knew him yet, so we digress.)

"But you have given up that life to pursue a more useful occupation," Cassandra said, nodding to herself. That, she could parse. "I see."

"Acting is useful," Face protested. He was Lorrdian, it was a point of cultural pride. "It's just not for me any more, not professionally."

At least until he got to help save the galaxy by playing pirate.

Cassandra let go of a disgusted snort. "I see no honor in pretending to be something other than we are," she said. "You are better off this way."

Thank you, Cass, this was why he'd come to you for career advice.

Except, y'know, he hadn't.

"Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it's not there."

Which was a very nice way of saying she was wrong.

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "You debate this?"

Unlike what some mages might tell you, she was a Seeker of Truth, not a Templar, and hardly a jackboot without reason.

Face mirrored Cassandra's expression perfectly. "Yeah, I do."

"Quite apart from the fact my people would've been silent slaves for the past four thousand years if we hadn't gotten really good at pretending, acting, all the performing arts, are important," Face said. "They tell stories, they take people's minds off their troubles, they inspire." For better or worse, when what they inspired was a rise in military recruitment. "When what is sucks, being reminded of what could be can keep people going until they can change things."

That and they were just plain fun, though Face wasn't sure Cassandra understood the concept, or how valuable that was.

Cassandra parsed his answer thoughtfully. "I... did not think of it that way," she said. Clearly. "I suppose morale and inspiration does have some honor. They are not fields of which I know much."

Face would never have guessed.

Instead of saying as much, he put on his most endearing expression instead. "Well, if you'd like to know more, we also have an extensive fiction section."

Maker, that was endearing. Enough to make her flush just a little bit.

She turned her attention to adjusting her glove. "No, I should return to studying the magic books," she said. "...Though knowing where this fiction is might help expedite my search."

Not one bit.

Face knew exactly how endearing it was, even more so when he added puppy eyes, which he now did.

"They're kept over there," he said, nodding in the relevant direction. "Oh, I'm Face, by the way."

Because introducing yourself at some point was generally a good idea.

If she wound up leaving here with a Young Adult romance novel tucked between the magic books, it would be all your fault, Face.

She gave him a curt nod. "I am Cassandra Pentaghast," she said. "Thank you for your assistance."

This might have been the most polite she'd been all weekend.

Face would take his victories where he could find them. "The pleasure was mine."

Cassandra nodded one more time, and then strode past him, vanishing into the stacks of books.

She came back one last time, some time later, wielding a stack of magical tomes in one hand and a single volume of something else in the other.

She slapped the YA book - something about knights and princesses - down on the desk first. "You will tell no one."

Face didn't actually have a death wish regardless of any impressions otherwise he might give now and in the future.

Also he didn't know the author and couldn't engage in approval related personal quests. "My lips are sealed," he said, one hand over his heart.

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Library, Sunday

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