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Library, Sunday

Curious about what he'd heard on the radio this morning, Face taken one look around the library and had said with a small wave of his hand "I wish you'd keep yourself tidy" and with a great display of acrobatic skill the books had started shelving themselves.

Now, given the previous behaviour of the books, it was entirely possible that this might have happened even on an ordinary weekend, but in any case, Face was sitting back and enjoying his ~~completely unearned~~ well earned break.

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Watch the show the books are putting on!

The lazy sod.

Maybe he's wishing he had some better minions.

...

"I FELT THAT!" a voice bellowed from the depths of the librarian's office, and John staggered out after a moment to glare at Face. "New rule, no bloody wishing in the bloody library," he said, pointing at his minion accusingly. "That shit always goes wrong and backfires spectacularly."

Bob had a body, and despite what anyone might think, he wasn't going to spend the entire time in it looking for sex or pestering people.

He was also going to spend some of it in the library, actually finding out which books were useful and reading some while it was quite a bit easier.

Because he was a giant nerd.

Bob poked his head out from where he was browsing. "Does this sort of thing happen often?"

"Me knowing when my minions of darkness are up to no good, the island doing something dodgy, or magic backfiring? Nevermind, yes. The answer is yes," John retorted absently. "For all of the above."

Said minion looked meek, so very very meek. Whether he actually felt meek was another question entirely, but at least he looked utterly and sincerely meek.

"Right, no wishing in the library," he repeated dutifully, wondering if there was a way to shift the blame to Barry.

"The island granting wishes, specifically," Bob clarified. He took a good look at the librarian. Oh, fascinating energies. "I'm familiar with two of the others, and your minions aren't my concern."

John scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Oh, believe me, mate, the day Barry accidentally turns the library into Baba Yaga's House 2.0 or blows up the dorms, my minions will be everyone's concern," he replied wryly. "But the wishes are new, as far as I've been here, and I haven't found anything about it in Special Collections."

"True, but until then you're on your own," Bob informed him cheerfully. "Special Collections?"

Cassandra had come in to return the last volume of that wonderful, terrible series and lament over the fact the sequel had not yet been written.

But she came in mid-shelving and stopped dead. "Magic!"

Yes, Cassandra, magic.

"Giant engraved doors over yonder," John said, jerking a thumb towards them. "Sentient, shape-shifting, reality nexus, and not very friendly. No admittance without a reason. Hence the reason for me magically warding it a billion different ways."

"...and the 'Police Line, do not cross' tape, but I think that's just the library being an asshole. I didn't do that."

As if aware of an audience, the next book to shelve itself did s triple somersault before landing neatly in the correct space.

Face nodded solemnly. "Magic."

Cassandra's gaze shot towards Face. "You!" she declared.

Face nodded again. "Me."

Face, don't poke the nice Seeker, it won't end well.

"Why did you not tell me you were a mage?!" Cassandra snarled, striding towards him with great big steps. "Liar!"

... Yeah, bad move, Face.

"All the fun things, then?" Bob craned his head around to take a look, then raised an eyebrow. "Those are some very interesting wards."

"Because I'm not?" Face wasn't afraid, because Face and good sense apparently weren't on speaking terms this morning, but be apparently retained enough survival instincts to keep a heavy solid object between himself and Cassandra. "And what am I supposed to have lied about?"

"You just said this magic was yours!" Cassandra snapped.

There might be a heavy solid object between her and Face, but she was armed: she had a book. And she was waving it about threateningly now.

The librarian would be sad if you used one of library books as a weapon, Cassandra, and he'd already yelled at Face today.

"No, I confirmed you were glaring at me," he said. "You inferred that it was mine. I'm only responsible for the books in the most technical of ways."

Not helping, Face.

The librarian's feelings were none of Cassandra's concern, Face!

The book did go flying, but thankfully, since he had at least confirmed that he had not been lying about being a mage all this time, she aimed it past his head.

Be grateful, Face.

Edited 2015-02-08 18:33 (UTC)

"All the fun things," he agreed with a crooked grin. "'Specially since it's no fun unless the books can bite back. Luckily, it tolerates me an' the minions enough that we can usually get in-and-out with a minimum of being screwed with. But, 'm guessing that's why the school hired a magus instead of an actual librarian in the first place."

John dug around in his trench to pull out his Silk Cuts. "Mind you, I'm a man of all disciplines, master o' none, so they tend to be rather informal and shit as magic goes, but it does the job."

"Constantine, by-the-by. John Constantine. Don't think I've had the pleasure."

But the librarian was a mage! Or at least a mage-type person, not that Face was in a hurry to point that out, since while he had no doubts that Cassandra versus Constantine would be amazing to watch, he also had no doubts that the winner would turn their ire on him next.

"Hey!" Face yelped, ducking and most decidedly not grateful. "What did the book ever do to you?"

He was well aware of what he'd done.

[Thanks for eating half my comment LJ]

Edited 2015-02-08 18:41 (UTC)

"Do not think I cannot find another book to throw," Cassandra snarled.

It was now less the rage of the 'you lied to me', more the rage of 'you are being a little shit', but that did not mean it burned any less brightly.

But being a little shit came as easily to him as being grumpy and unimpressed came to her.

"I know. We're in a library." See?

"My own magic tends to be a bit more structured, but I've a friend who would insist that getting the job done is the important part. He's not wrong." And because he could, he held out a hand to shake. "Bob."

And there, for just an instant, you could see in Cassandra's eyes the ember of an idea called 'I could just flip the desk on him'.

She reeled that one in more or less on time, and instead let her upper lip curl. "Ugh."

See, indeed!

Most people wouldn't have caught that hint of an idea

If you were Lorrdian on the other hand...Face was suddenly much less interested in poking the angry Cassandra to see what happened.

"Anything else I can do for you?" he asked sweetly, because even despite that, he couldn't help himself.

"Check in that book," Cassandra growled.

She spun on her heel. Her desire to gush over the books with him had suddenly evaporated.

Constantine'd take that offered hand, although there was now something sharp in his smile. "Bob, eh? You aren't the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts sap, are you?" he asked. "Here I'd heard you were a bit more... incorporeal."

"'Defence against the dark arts'?" Bob snorted. "That's one way of putting it, anyway. I am, usually, but if the island's going to grant wishes for a bit, I'm going to take advantage." He shrugged. "Even if it backfires, I can't end up worse than dead and eternally cursed."

"I'll just do that then," Face said, sounding more than a little woebegone.

He'd wanted to talk about the book too.

"Hey, had to read Barry Plodder so I could tell kids what it got wrong," he said, shrugging. "...but now you've done it, mate. You've challenged the whims of the Island by saying that, and next thing you'll know you'll have the Three Lords of Hell knocking on your door, or an Endless wanting a favor, and you'll be even more screwed."

John squinted at him. "Can't make out the curse while you're solid," he said as he tapped out a cigarette. "--assuming that means anything. Want a smoke, while you got lungs?"

"Ta, mate," John said, exhaling. "Library's already moodier than a woman who's birthday you forgot, don't want to go around doing stuff that might muck up whatever magic she's got running in her stacks."

Bob thought about it. "Why not? It's not as if it'll kill me. What's an Endless? And here." He pushed up one sleeve to show the manacle on it. "Part of the spell, if that helps."

John handed over the Silk Cut he'd already gotten out, and got a second one from his pack. "Here's to the hellraisers - smoking won't kill us any sooner than our chosen professions," he smirked, flicking on his lighter and offering it to Bob. "And an Endless is a bloody pompous anthropomorphic personificiation of the universe, and tend to be bad-luck pennies. Where I'm from, if one of the Seven take an interest in you, you're usually screwed. Thank fuck most of 'em leave the mortal world alone for the most part."

Once Bob was properly lit, Constantine turned his attention to his own stick of sin, inhaling deeply before taking a gander at the manacle. "Now that's a nasty bit of work," he said, letting out a low whistle. "Who the fuck you'd piss off, squire?"

Bob sucked in a bit of smoke, coughed a little, and tried to get the hang of it. It was...interesting.

"Where I'm from," he answered dryly, "the High Council don't take kindly to sorcerers who dabble in the black. Kill a few people, raise somebody up, and death is the least of your problems." He held out a hand and conjured the image of his skull back home. It was a complex illusion, but if there was one thing he knew very well, that was it. "That's the other component to the binding."

"Remind me not to get a time-share in your corner of the universe, then," John said, shaking his head. "Unless you were killin' people to get your rocks off, this is a bit excessive, innit?"

"I certainly think so." Bob shrugged. "I won't say I didn't enjoy killing one or two, but that wasn't the reason I did it. Still, I'd have been long dead otherwise, and I've got to see a lot of wonderful things over the years. Even if seeing is generally all I can do," he added dryly.

"Rules in your world aren't the same, I take it?" he asked.

Edited 2015-02-08 22:00 (UTC)

"Rules? Rules are for suckers. Oh, I'll have to pay my bill eventually, but I've already cheated Hell once. I plan to keep putting off my tab as long as possible," John replied cheerfully. "Someone's got to do the work that needs doing."

"Oh, dear." Bob rolled his eyes. "Remind me never to introduce my friend Harry to you." They would make horrible, horrible enablers. Or drinking buddies. Or they'd punch each other a lot. One or more of these.

All of the above!

"Why, he an ass-kisser?" John asked. "I mean, I'm all for kissing a choice bit of ass, so long it's between consensual adults having a bit of fun, but a man's got to have his dignity."

"He's currently on a sort of parole for his complete inability to follow rules," Bob answered. "And he just loves to throw himself headfirst into stupidity if it'll help someone."

"Sounds like my type of bloke, then, 'cept for the fact he has to dance to the tune of what sounds like the magical moral brigade." Don't let John around the High Council, Bob. It would only end in tears. "If he -- and you -- end up needing a new residence if parole goes south, let me know. It's not the safest corner of the multiverse, but there's plenty of magic."

Bob would pay good money to see Constantine versus Ancient Mai. "Thank you; I'll let him know, though I hope it never comes to that. Harry's a good sort, and the council, well...they're a bit inflexible is all."

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Library, Sunday

Mod Your Library!

Talk to Face

Talk to the Librarian!

OOC

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