Smoke coiled out of pipe, embers crinkling on an inhale in the quiet of the shelves and raunchy literature. He’d not asked whether it was fine to light up in such delicate company, so he’d done it on the sly once he’d made sure the librarian was out of view. It didn’t do for a guest to be so obtusely rude, after all— no Sir. Or was it Syr, here?
Wonder what that was about. Knightfuckers and their titles. Anyway—
Looking was free, bless this damn Order, and none had bothered him much in the grounds wherever he sauntered, which was something. He had to suppose it was the confidence and the fact he could look mighty important if he wanted to — enough of both and a man, even a small and searing red one like him, could walk in just about anywhere. Or so he liked to think.
He flipped the page on the sequential, pausing. Pipe stem clicking as he adjusted it in his mouth, head tilting in a chime of dangling earrings and trinkets about his neck. To the left while the hand holding the fold open tilted the page the opposite way. Scoffed.
“ Pff— Unrealistic— “
He was about to take another, all too amused drag from his lunch when a sound like a pigeon cooing caught him out of the next page flip. Quick followed by a call of a name. Hector! Fangs bared in a groan as he closed the pamphlet of all too exaggerated woodcut passions in a snap. Red heels of shined deerskin boots clicked in tandem to the decorations about his woven belt as he begun at once towards the voice, exhaling smoke through his nostrils like any which firehearted fiend of old.
“ Hey. “ Called out, with molten authority, upon rounding the shelves.
Came to view, spotting— Well. Someone very big and someone rather small. In comparison, anyway. Still plenty taller than himself, but that was in physics only. His mouth that’d fallen open snapped shut, brows hiking up.
“ Mind taking your loud courting somewhere else? Some of us— “ The pages shook as leaves in a hurricane. “ Are trying to jerk off to quality— “ Glanced at the cover, too riled up to actually read it, gave up and rose both arms in outrage.
“ Fiction. And you— “ He pointed with the stem of the pipe.
“ Are blathering all over my mood. “
Breathing hard, he stopped to put the pipe back in his mouth and drew from it, chamber quivering, eyes wide with a rage the extent and actual expression of which begun dawning on him the moment he stopped talking. And at about the speed of a carriage shot from a cannon. Ballistic velocity, rattling him back to his senses.
Fuck, am yelling at some random kids. Again. An actors aspect descended upon him, a perfect whiplash to the rescue, and he slapped both palms on the chest of his dazzling, embroidered vest.
“ This is not who I am! “
