Warm Reunions [Closed] - Printable Version
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RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - Tindome - 04-07-2017
He arched one eyebrow, thick and perfectly sculpted as it was. When he cocked his head just-so, he could look down his nose at someone with deadly disdain, at least in part due to the formidability of his nose. He carefully kept this a notch below that, as a kindness to her. "Is it your implication, then, that the money was merely for your hat – that the rest was free?" All at once he let the harsh expression leave his face. "Regardless, you have made clear your peculiar fixation on it, and I will no more hold it against you than any woman who covers her hair for fear it might prove irresistible."
Jean would not have teased her so if not for his certainty of her motives. Self-conscious shame regarding inhuman features was a common trait among those with that sort of affliction – he was still not sure why. He'd seen feline ears more often, but even in that case, often covered. He understood the need for discretion. He still did not smile with teeth around humans he might terrify, he had used to wear sunglasses when he'd gone out to play. Around creatures who already knew them as other, it was nearly universal to allow oneself more freedom to simply be.
But not for her. She could not bring herself to do it. Her emotions were much the same as if he'd asked her to lift her skirt. Unthinkable, vulgar, taboo.
Intriguing to him for all of those reasons.
He lead her back downstairs, out of the hall and into the storefront. Then he seated himself behind the front desk, leaning his cane against another stack of books. "Collect your books, mademoiselle, and bring them here so I may make a note of their sale." He paused. "If you would like to look around, you may of course come back for any books exceeding the six that you have purchased. Take your time; I do not mind."
Jean would not have teased her so if not for his certainty of her motives. Self-conscious shame regarding inhuman features was a common trait among those with that sort of affliction – he was still not sure why. He'd seen feline ears more often, but even in that case, often covered. He understood the need for discretion. He still did not smile with teeth around humans he might terrify, he had used to wear sunglasses when he'd gone out to play. Around creatures who already knew them as other, it was nearly universal to allow oneself more freedom to simply be.
But not for her. She could not bring herself to do it. Her emotions were much the same as if he'd asked her to lift her skirt. Unthinkable, vulgar, taboo.
Intriguing to him for all of those reasons.
He lead her back downstairs, out of the hall and into the storefront. Then he seated himself behind the front desk, leaning his cane against another stack of books. "Collect your books, mademoiselle, and bring them here so I may make a note of their sale." He paused. "If you would like to look around, you may of course come back for any books exceeding the six that you have purchased. Take your time; I do not mind."
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - SolitareLee - 04-07-2017
That had, in fact, been exactly what she had meant to imply. She even had a little joke ready. She would say something about, is that not how you remember it--see a joke, about how I thought you forgot who I was? And then I gave you my book out of the kindness of my heart. And it would be funny. That had been the plan, anyway. When he looked at her like that, all such plans flew out the window. Irredeemably stupid. What was she thinking? She couldn't tell jokes. Last time she'd tried, it had wound up sounding like she was insulting him. Deflated and embarrassed, she stared away, down towards the ground, ears flattening against her head under the hat she was now super-extra glad she was wearing and sincerely regretted calling more attention to.
When he looked at her like that, it had her questioning all her shitty life choices leading up to this moment again. She didn't even have the excuse of ignorance this time. She'd come in knowing full well what lived here. That it had gone as well as it had was a small miracle, stars aligning despite her social ineptitude. Why did she always push it? Keeping her mouth shut under the barrage of disdain and mockery had worked last time. Maybe if she preempted keeping her goddamn mouth shut, she could avoid the worst of it this time, and not wind up on her ass, covered in books, having to consider begging him to fuck her up the ass.
She mumbled something that may have been an apology and may have been a recipe for brioche, for all it was clearly audible, and followed him down the stairs.
Six books. Six children's books, and then she'd be out, with a little prize for the library and not much in the way of scars to show for it. All she had to do was pretend she wasn't a socially inept moron for like, ten more goddamn minutes. Could she at least manage that?
No, as it turned out, no she couldn't, because she wound up taking way more than ten minutes. She was still hyper self-conscious of his eyes on her, which made her movements stiff and unnatural--that's how it felt to her, anyway. But she couldn't help it. Choosing just six was a difficulty, and she was selecting from one shelf. There was so much else! So many books she couldn't afford; not that she knew the price tag, she just knew the seller.
But they were so pretty.
And they had such interesting titles.
And they were so old.
He had the sort of books on display most other places would probably keep behind glass out of their sheer age alone. And why not? Who would fucking steal them? It probably wasn't even that he didn't know what they were worth; there was just so many of them, and he very clearly had his own ideas of what things were worth. Her lust for THE ART OF COOKERY MADE PLAIN AND EASY. Which Far Exceeds any Thing of the Kind yet Published was stronger than any lust she could have had for his very nice leather gloves, no matter what her subconscious had to say on the matter. It just looked so interesting.
She stuck, sourly, to children's books. She grabbed the Hobbit that she'd wanted, and then took her time. These were for the library, after all. There was a collection of short stories from the 1930s that was, essentially, exactly what she'd described, and a book called The Pink Fairy Book that was very pretty in faded pink and gold foil and could definitely benefit from her restoration program. Also, its publishing date was 1897. She'd already paid. He'd just said six books. Of course she was going to make them six of the rarest, most expensive ones there. She could buy cheap books with, you know, actual money.
Not that she'd be back.
Not even for that. Ooh. Okay, maybe for that. No, no, she couldn't blow her money on this sort of thing, she had at least two more years of school left and was working an unpaid internship. It's not like she could get a night job.
Finally, at great length, she managed to get six books and no more, holding them with the careful, practiced hands of someone used to holding very old, very fragile things. She brought them to his desk and laid them out, gently, so that he could make notes of the titles and mark their sale in whatever old-immortal-who-does-not-have-a-computer-or-even-a-register way he had.
"I'm lucky you take payment in inexplicable thought exercises," she said, apparently having already forgotten how she's just sworn to herself not to try to make jokes or even talk, at all, whatsoever. Why call attention to the fact she'd grabbed six very old, probably very valuable books, specifically because she'd paid first? Only stupid people would do that. She was stupid. Ugh. "I'd never be able to afford to shop here otherwise," she continued, like an idiot, who wouldn't shut up, just shut up god. It's not like she could actually be funny on command. It was probably coming off bitchy, because everything did.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - Tindome - 04-07-2017
It was just so easy. Prod at her the littlest bit, and watch her deflate completely, fall into a pit of wretched self-loathing. It was as if she simply could not help but give him openings, even though she should have known better. Such a peculiar trait.
He watched her peruse titles , her desire growing the longer she looked. A vague sense of resentment, as if it were somehow his fault that she could not take all of them, as if he were simply being miserly not to let her have the run of the place. Even after he had agreed to give her six books of her choosing for such a pittance.
As of right now, he was considering it a sort of gamble on a potential investment.
He slid his catalogue in front of him, an enormous bound book with nothing but lists upon lists of every book in his collection – except for those he forgot to list. And including those that he forgot to remove. There was no organization, no system, simply additions made whenever he got a new book with the amount he'd paid for it listed to the right. Sometimes instead of numbers there were little symbols whose meaning only he knew. Beside it, if he'd sold them, there was the price he'd sold it for – or else more little symbols, never explained. Occasionally to the left he had bothered to put in the date of acquisition, but not often, and even then the year was missing. Sometimes he would simply put a name there, as if he ought to know perfectly well what timeframe that name should indicate.
It was, overall, the most offensive possible thing for a librarian to forced to witness with her own two eyes.
"You are very lucky," he agreed, as he found The Pink Fairy Book and put a little line with a diamond over it under the sale price. The acquisition price had been listed as an asterisk. "That I am far better than you at seeing what you are worth." Another few books in quick succession marked with that same line-and-diamond before skimming through to find another. So many faux pas, so little time. "I will be glad to have you again, if these books do not sate you. There is much that I would be willing to give you, if you are willing to let me take." There. The Hobbit. He marked it as sold, and shut his catalogue.
"Is there anything else you would like me to do for you, Miss Corey?"
He watched her peruse titles , her desire growing the longer she looked. A vague sense of resentment, as if it were somehow his fault that she could not take all of them, as if he were simply being miserly not to let her have the run of the place. Even after he had agreed to give her six books of her choosing for such a pittance.
As of right now, he was considering it a sort of gamble on a potential investment.
He slid his catalogue in front of him, an enormous bound book with nothing but lists upon lists of every book in his collection – except for those he forgot to list. And including those that he forgot to remove. There was no organization, no system, simply additions made whenever he got a new book with the amount he'd paid for it listed to the right. Sometimes instead of numbers there were little symbols whose meaning only he knew. Beside it, if he'd sold them, there was the price he'd sold it for – or else more little symbols, never explained. Occasionally to the left he had bothered to put in the date of acquisition, but not often, and even then the year was missing. Sometimes he would simply put a name there, as if he ought to know perfectly well what timeframe that name should indicate.
It was, overall, the most offensive possible thing for a librarian to forced to witness with her own two eyes.
"You are very lucky," he agreed, as he found The Pink Fairy Book and put a little line with a diamond over it under the sale price. The acquisition price had been listed as an asterisk. "That I am far better than you at seeing what you are worth." Another few books in quick succession marked with that same line-and-diamond before skimming through to find another. So many faux pas, so little time. "I will be glad to have you again, if these books do not sate you. There is much that I would be willing to give you, if you are willing to let me take." There. The Hobbit. He marked it as sold, and shut his catalogue.
"Is there anything else you would like me to do for you, Miss Corey?"
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - SolitareLee - 04-07-2017
She eyed his catalogue, or what passed for it. It was the sort of nightmareish hellscape that she could barely conceive of. It would probably replace him in her nightmares. What in god's green earth. How did he find anything. Also, what did a diamond with a line mean. What did it mean.
His words made her flush bright crimson, but she wasn't sure exactly why. She wasn't even sure how she was supposed to react. Should she have been offended at the assumption he knew her better than she knew herself? Probably? Maybe? But it also sounded kind of like a complement? Was it a back-handed complement or a front-handed insult or what. She wasn't good at this sort of thing.
She couldn't figure out how it was supposed to make her feel, because she couldn't even figure out how it did make her feel. A bit tight in the chest, like anxiety but different.
There is much that I would be willing to give you, if you are willing to let me take.
What the fuck did that even mean aaaaaaaaah
There were a lot of things she'd like for him to do. She gathered up her new books, still bright red. "U-um. N-no. No thank you. Thank you. Um." She took a few steps backwards. She sort of mouthed like she might say something else, and then instead, turned and scurried out of the building.