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Library, Sunday

Despite the fact he way or may not have gotten fired on Wednesday, though he pretty sure it'd been a case of not, Face was back behind the desk today. Though in between checking and stacking books, he made a point of scrubbing out the coffee pot.

Just because Barry hadn't been responsible for the island going weird, it didn't mean that the pot was safe.

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"I am not uncomfortable," Cassandra specified, as she realized that she was, in part. "I was merely hoping to have the matter clarified. Thank you."

"Now I'm kind of curious what sort of reply someone else got instead of me," Face said. Because going there would surely end well.

Oh, look, that book was climbing up as she studied the synopsis on the back. "Mockery, of course," Cassandra said. "Your message was rather ridiculous."

Face clapped his hand dramatically over his chest. "A shot right to the heart."

"I am sure you will never survive this grave wound," Cassandra said dryly.

"Yeah, I'd say I'm done for," Face assured her.

"And you haven't even heard the full phrasing," Cassandra said, putting the book back down. "Your constitution is poor."

"I'm a former actor," Face said. "We're sensitive sorts."

Cassandra huffed out a laugh. "Sensitive. Yes. Of course."

Face nodded. "Also delicate."

"Like a tender flower," Cassandra said dryly. "One almost wonders why you would chance such a risky pursuit like flirting."

"Because I have poetry in my soul." Also a marked lack of self-preservation.

"I am fairly certain that is not what true poetry sounds like," Cassandra said.

"It's blank verse," Face deadpanned.

"Beautiful and terrifying maiden,
Do not turn your anger on me,
I am not a deer."

"It is not only your messages that are ridiculous," Cassandra said firmly, "But you aspire to that title in its entirety."

Not that she didn't look charmed.

Face just grinned at her. Because he had no shame. "If you'd prefer non-ridiculous poetry, I'm pretty sure we have some of that here."

Cassandra smiled slightly. "...Perhaps," she said. "I rather like poetry. The grand romances, especially."

Not something she was generally inclined to admit.

It wasn't like Face was going to judge. "The ones with similar themes to your books?"

"Yes," Cassandra said. She rubbed the back of her neck. "But also the rather more... intimate ones."

"Oh, those." Face was still not judging, even if his ears were a touch pinker. "I think we have some of those. Yes."

And now Cassandra's face was flushing. Wonderful.

"...But the former will suffice, if you insist on finding any," she said quickly.

Face was very studiously ignoring any blushing going on. "I can just point you in the right direction, you probably have a better idea of what you like."

Cassandra sighed. "I prefer it when it is something we can talk about it afterward," she admitted. "Most do not take me seriously when I admit to liking these tales and poetry."

"Why not?" Face asked. "There are far worse things to be a fan of."

Tetran Cowell holodramas, for example.

"I am a warrior," Cassandra pointed out lightly. "There are assumptions."

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