[Unfortunately for Ramir, being unlikely to run into too many of the people she knew here in the library doesn't mean she's unlikely to run into any of them.
It's disgustingly late at night, for all consistent reckoning of time really means to anyone at the moment. Still, the castle does manage to be a little quieter. Probably because those who aren't currently occupied with exterminating the infestation are out finding somewhere bug-free to sleep until the sun comes back. The sensible thing to do, if you're not prone to being both nocturnal and hyperproductive with the proper motivation. Which Jason certainly is. Losing hours to bug bites is more than reason enough to get to the bottom of this mess. (Even moreso when you come back with scraps of fuzzy memory and a feeling of vague dread about what they might entail if he could just get a better hold on them. At least the general chaos means that people won't be entirely concerned about sussing out a kid in a mask.)
And step one is always to know your enemy.
It's been an eventful week, and he's been digging around the archives for a while for some Bug Background, and even the experienced nocturnal types can get tired. He'd ducked out for a brief break, and by the time he's wandering back in to work—steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a list of crossed out reference numbers in the other—there's someone else in the aisles, back to him, examining the spines of the books.
No one he knows, from the silhouette. (But then, that's a hard judgment to make lightly, right now.)
He sets his notes down on a table so he can lean against it, both hands wrapped around his cup of joe. By way of a hello—]
Really makes you miss the ol' Dewey Decimal system, y'know? [Where's a Batcomputer when you need one.] But I think I'm getting the hang of it.
[This would probably be easier without navigating alien ideas of reference organization. Lucky he's always been a quick study.]
using bookworms for my own purposes in the meantime
It's disgustingly late at night, for all consistent reckoning of time really means to anyone at the moment. Still, the castle does manage to be a little quieter. Probably because those who aren't currently occupied with exterminating the infestation are out finding somewhere bug-free to sleep until the sun comes back. The sensible thing to do, if you're not prone to being both nocturnal and hyperproductive with the proper motivation. Which Jason certainly is. Losing hours to bug bites is more than reason enough to get to the bottom of this mess. (Even moreso when you come back with scraps of fuzzy memory and a feeling of vague dread about what they might entail if he could just get a better hold on them. At least the general chaos means that people won't be entirely concerned about sussing out a kid in a mask.)
And step one is always to know your enemy.
It's been an eventful week, and he's been digging around the archives for a while for some Bug Background, and even the experienced nocturnal types can get tired. He'd ducked out for a brief break, and by the time he's wandering back in to work—steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a list of crossed out reference numbers in the other—there's someone else in the aisles, back to him, examining the spines of the books.
No one he knows, from the silhouette. (But then, that's a hard judgment to make lightly, right now.)
He sets his notes down on a table so he can lean against it, both hands wrapped around his cup of joe. By way of a hello—]
Really makes you miss the ol' Dewey Decimal system, y'know? [Where's a Batcomputer when you need one.] But I think I'm getting the hang of it.
[This would probably be easier without navigating alien ideas of reference organization. Lucky he's always been a quick study.]