[pfsb] silence in the library

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew doesn't check out the Milliways library that often, but there are a few books that a patron left downstairs, and he's volunteered to return them.

The library door's pretty thick; it's designed to be. For better soundproofing.

There's no reason he should hear anything happening inside before he opens the door.

Comments

[semicharmed]

Matt feels a little like someone who's just done a strenuous workout they knew was excessive at the time, but it's only now they're realizing exactly how much their calves will be aching for the next week. But overwhelming everything else is the feeling of sweet, sweet relief that comes from no longer being hunted by flying things with knives.

"You got 'em," he murmurs.

God, he could kiss you, Andrew Wells.

--Er. That is.



You know what, yeah, we'll go with that.

[stilljustandrew]

Unaware of that particular bit of inner monologue, Andrew wipes his forehead with one hand and proffers Matt's phone back with the other.

"You might want to keep that sound available, though," he says, "in case they're just, like, hiding around the next corner."

[semicharmed]

Matt sobers as he takes his phone.

"I'll keep it pulled up, yeah," he agrees. "Should we try to go, like, back the way we came ...?"

Yes and no: As it turns out, they can't get exactly back the way they came, because a few turns into their retread and the library spits them out in the main bar. Matt is baffled, but he's not exactly complaining. Danger's been averted! He gets to sit down! He finally gets booze-infused ice cream. (His is a maple-bacon-bourbon milkshake.) And, although the buzz is hitting him expectedly quickly, he manages to give Andrew a brief tutorial on phones of the future-- his phone of the future, anyway.

"It's supposed to be the most intuitive model yet," he concludes wryly. "But I'm now pretty sure that's contingent on users having been around and buying phones for the past five years or so."

[stilljustandrew]

(Andrew's booze-infused ice cream is a milkshake too, involving creme de menthe, chocolate, and Kahlua.)

"I still can't believe we never compared decades," he says, half complainingly, looking at the phone. "I mean, we said early twenty-first century, but that's still ..."

[semicharmed]

"I kind of figured you might be a little earlier on than me," Matt apologizes. "Most people are. But I guess it just didn't-- in the heat of the moment, I didn't think the tech would misalign like that."

He takes another delicious sip.

[stilljustandrew]

"It worked out okay in the end," he says, perfectly blithe now that the danger is over.

"Oh -- I should probably leave a note for Security about the piskies, in case they spread out from the library."

[semicharmed]

"Ah, right," Matt nods, "that'd be a good plan." A little rueful, "The next people to stumble into them might not have time to find the right book."

Since there's no time like the present, he digs into his bag and comes up with a notebook and pen, flipping past a few pages of abstruse-looking diagrams and ancient languages to a fresh sheet.

He nudges the notebook Andrew's way.

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew, about to dig for his own notepad, pauses and waits when he sees Matt doing the same. "Thanks," he says with a smile.

And boy, does he ever want to take a look at those diagrams and languages. But you don't read someone else's notebook without asking.

He pens a few quick lines, describing the piskies and their brief encounter with them, identifying them by name, and adding the full list of ways to get rid of them -- domestic cats and iron bells as well as the cock-crow. The recorded sound appeared to work as well, he adds, and then pushes the pad across to Matt.

"Did I leave anything out?"

[semicharmed]

Matt peers seriously at the note-- it's a loose-limbed sort of seriousness, but seriousness nevertheless.

"I don't think so," he says at last.

He tears the sheet out neatly (and a bit over-carefully), sliding it to Andrew, and fiddles absently with his pen.

"Do we tell them we're around to help if they need anything else? I mean, I am, at least, or I can be."

(He ought to stick around for a little while in any case, to see if not-his-ex-Dracula will make an appearance.)

[stilljustandrew]

"That's a good idea," he says, and reaches for the pen back to add a quick postscript.

He signs his name, leaving a place for Matt to sign his, and slides the note back across.

[semicharmed]

Matt signs, smiling faintly to himself (it feels a little like passing notes). He hands the paper back.

"There you go."

Then he figures he ought to put his notebook away-- it feels anti-conducive to conversation-- although he does pause a moment to peer at his last set of scribbles.

What time was it when he wrote that?

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew tries manfully to resist craning his neck to look at the scribbles.

He almost succeeds!

[semicharmed]

Matt glances up with sheepish smile already in place, and is a little surprised to see what looks like curiosity?

"What is it?"

[stilljustandrew]

"Oh, uh --" Andrew's turn for a sheepish smile. "Sorry. I was ... I'm sometimes inappropriately nosy?"

[semicharmed]

"Oh," he says, and taps the page in front of him. "About this?"

[stilljustandrew]

The tips of his ears go a little red. "Yeah. Sorry. I, I didn't really see anything."

A hasty swallow of milkshake seems like it might help the encroaching embarrassment.

[semicharmed]

"Oh," Matt says again, and shakes his head, "no, no, you can totally look at it-- it's sort of related to what I was talking about to you before, the self-powering spells, only I have no idea why I thought Sumerian religious poetry was germane. I'm trying to remember."

He slides the notebook Andrew's way: The open page does, in fact, feature a few lines of poetry (with translation, which reveals it to be about the goddess Inanna).

[stilljustandrew]

" -- Sumerian religious poetry?" His gaze brightens and sharpens both at once, as he leans to look at the page. "Oh, cool -- and it's Inanna, she's got that whole descent-to-underworld-and-rising-again story, that's some powerful symbology there --"

[semicharmed]

"I love it," Matt admits, sipping at his milkshake. His smile's a little broader now, a little charmed; it is very, very cool that Andrew already knows about Inanna.

"Which ... may be the only actual reason I wrote it down, come to think of it."

[stilljustandrew]

He grins at that. "Totally a legit reason."

[semicharmed]

"You can flip around if you want, too," Matt adds, full-fledged grinning back for a moment.

"I don't think my diary's in there."

[stilljustandrew]

... and it takes Andrew another moment to look away from that full-fledged grin and back to the notebook, still grinning himself.

The sketched schematic for a power-generating spell on a public playground makes him give a low whistle. "Oh, nice."

[semicharmed]

"Hmm?" Matt peers, noting that he's nearing the bottom quarter of his milkshake and feeling awesome about it. His head doesn't even hurt anymore.

[stilljustandrew]

"The playground one --" He turns the notebook to show him. "Kinetic energy from the slide, and the circle under the merry-go-round where the turning will power it? I love it."

[semicharmed]

He smiles again.

"That one should actually be one of the simpler ones to implement, I just ... want to be sure I'm as prepped as I can be before I work on something that'll involve kids."