Difference between revisions of "Log:TP"

16 March, 2017

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Library

Tock looks up through his cracked pair of wire-rimmed spectacles, split (among other ways) right across the bottom to make them function as bifocals in a kludgey sort of way. He wavewavewavewavewavewavewaves to Max cheerily, and comes out from behind the counter. As is typical for him, Tock is wearing a button-down collared shirt with khakis and a houndstooth jacket, waistcoat, and bow-tie. (With an ancient pocket-watch or two visible in the waistcoat's pockets . . . )

It always catches her off guard when Max runs into a Changeling without expecting it. She blinks just a few times when she enters the library and spots Tock. A moment later, she smiles casually, stepping inside like there's nothing unusual going on at all. The young woman is dressed casually, wearing a jacket, jeans, and boots with enough layers to keep her warm in the still technically winter weather. "Afternoon," she greets once she's close enough to the counter. Bright blue eyes take a curious glance over the strange man before she meets his gaze with a friendly expression. "Where's the section on local history and whatnot?" she asks.

Tock walks through the pools of sunlight filtering into the library, beaming brightly as he approaches . . . He steps with a comfortable precision around the map table and wavewavewavewaves in the general direction of the History Corner. Not quite sure if Max is looking for a history of the town, or of the city, or of the countryside, he opens up with:

Well, now, how do you do! and welcome-on-through! 
It's now slightly past two; How might I help you? 
If history calls, there's much lore in these walls, 
From the city's white halls to the Tamarack falls . . .

There's a light smile that lingers on her lips as Max listens to the rhyming man, amusement flickering in her bright blue eyes. "Well, I was interested in learning more about the area in general. All of it. Particularly like, folklore and whatnot," she replies, sliding her hands into her pockets as she starts to make her way over toward the History Corner. She ensures not to get too close to him, staying just out of arm's reach. "You a local yourself or just been here awhile?" she wonders, tilting her head his way for a moment with a curious expression.

Tock totters on over to the local history section dealing with transcribed oral history, and legends of the town's founders, thumbing along the bottom of the shelf as he scans through Dewey coded . . .

'Twas born and raised here, been here many-a-year, 
And I've always stayed near, just to keep matters clear.  
I've a fondness for town, though I've walked all around, 
From the Galls' heights on down to the ancient Fair-ground. . . .

"There's some old fairgrounds around here?" Max asks, perking up a bit with apparent interest. She casually plucks one of the books at random from the shelf, flipping through a few pages before placing it back where it was found. The mortal does this a few times, though always makes sure to put the book back in it's spot. She doesn't want to be messing up the order of the books right in front of the librarian. "What books would you recommend to get a general idea of the history here? Everything I've seen of this place so far, it's proven to be very interesting," she tells him with a smile.

Tock nodnodnodnodnodnodnods in understanding, knowing firsthand that there's a lot to take in. He thinks for a bit, taptaptaptaptaptaptapping the index finger of his right hand against the right side of his chin. He concludes that perhaps, although helpful, books might not be the absolute best solution for Max . . . .

To get the right picture, a tour might be best, 
From one of the young lads, perhaps, on request? 
To see all the sights could well take a full day! 
Do you come well-appraised of a good place to stay?

"There's tour guides around town?" the young woman curiously asks, raising a brow lightly. Max and Tock are hanging out in the History Corner of the library. The mortal is dressed casually with an interested look spread across her features. "I'm currently staying at..." She names a place that's probably known for being cheap, certainly somewhere you wouldn't recommend to tourists or really anyone visiting the area. "It was cheap and I don't spend much time there," she explains with a light chuckle, not seeming to mind whatever condition her hotel room might be in.

Tock thinks a bit more, then, with a burst of activity and a sudden index finger point and hand-wave, seems to decide upon something:

I'd say we could fairly pay Hazel a call, 
She'll cook up a feast for you! . . . and that's not all . . . 
Her restaurant's famous for more than good food, 
She cares well for one and for all of her brood. 

She'll know where to find you a good place to stay, 
With hours quite flexible, easy to pay, 
She'll put you in touch with a guide of her kin, 
Who knows? Like as not, they might wander right in . . .

Max continues to smile lightly at the rhyming Lost, both amused and slightly impressed. She knows she wouldn't be able to keep up such an act so effortlessly. "Hazel, huh? Where's this restaurant of hers at?" she questions curiously, tilting her head lightly to the side. A hand reaches up to brush some unruly curls from her face, tucking them behind an ear. "Does this library see a lot of business? I would imagine this place to usually be quiet," she notes, taking a quick glance around before returning her attention to Tock.

Desean lumbers into the building with grudging purpose, a beat up old briefcase clutched in a hamhock hand. He thumps it down on a table off to the side and spends a moment staring at the.... Def Poetry Jam session? Either way, the staring is brief, and after a disapproving grunt, he's off to rifle through recent issues of the local papers and magazines.

Tock pointpointpointpoints out the front window at Hazel's restaurant, right across the street, diagonally cross-corner to the library:

Her door's open wide for three squares all day long, 
But orders of breakfast will never go wrong! 
Just tell her your fav-o-rite snack to prepare, 
and trust in her judgment -- she's well-more than fair!

After peering out the window and making a few mental notes about the restaurant, Max smiles and looks back over toward Tock. "Thanks. Are you sure /you/ don't want to be my tour guide sometime?" she questions with a playful expression. The perceptive thing that she was, and the fact that it's probably hard to miss the man, she notices Desean as he enters and regards him with a curious look. "I think you've got someone else that needs some help," she points out with a nod. "I'll bother you again after I look through some of these books."

Desean looks up briefly from his caveman-sausage-finger-jabbing at the keys of an old laptop to lightly shake his head and insist, "Nah girl, spit dat game, I'm gucci."

Tock nodnodnodnodnodnodnodnods at Max's observation, then totters out of the history corner and over to Desean's table, stacking Desean's customary requests for all of the local papers up into a pile at one end of the table, one by one. Tock "mmmHmmmmmhmmhmmhmmmmmmmm" 's quietly to himself as he works, the sunlight streaming in from above, glinting off of the frames and lenses of his cracked spectacles and illuminating the old patches on his houndstooth jacket and waistcoat as he moves back and forth to the periodicals rack . . .

Desean just blankly watches the guy go back and forth, then slowly pulls out some cheater glasses and slides them on with one hand, sliding the paper at the top of the stack over with the other. "Thanks, rhymes," he mumbles, squinting and rifling pages.

"I'm flattered you think that I might have game but I don't think I could make up quick rhymes to save my life," Max replies with a light chuckle, both her tone and expression both thoroughly amused. She looks back to some of the books ahead of her, picking a few from the shelf to examine. "How easy is it to get a library card here?" she wonders with a glance toward Tock. The young woman scans around the room again, noting the stack of newspapers Desean is taking. Her brow raises slightly and she offers the other mortal a curious smile. "Like keeping up to date with what's going on around here?"

Desean looks up at Max, stares for an awkwardly long moment, then back down to his work without a word.

Took nodnodnodnodnods and quickly explains about library cards and policies:

A card's but a cinch, and quite easy to do, 
Just stop by the desk and we'll write one for you! 
Books loan for a week and day for each one, 
Just bring them on back to us when you're all done! 

Max blinks a few times at the odd reaction to Desean, but decides to not take it personally. "Okay cool, I think I'll borrow these for now," she tells Tock with a smile as she starts to head back to the counter with a small stack of books in her arms. She sets them down, leaning lightly against the desk while slowly peering about the area.

Desean seems to grow increasingly frustrated as he searches and searches, apparently to no avail. After a few more jabs at his keyboard, he shuts the laptop and casts the little pair of cheaters onto the table and leans back with a long, cheek-puffed exhale and both palms scrubbing his forehead.

Tock "hmmmmmmhmmmmHmmmmhmmmmmHmmmm" 's quietly to himself as he checks the books out one-by-one, replacing the shelving card with a due-date card and placing each in the jacket of each book in turn. He then quickly and efficiently re-stacks the books and simultaneously flips and re-orients the whole pile so that the stack will wind up arranged in "proper reading orientation" when seen from Max's point of view . . . He then looks up to see if he can tell what's bothering Desean?

Desean mumbles something that sounds like 'this job sucks' as he pushes up from the table and packs up his briefcase again. He's courteous enough to somewhat neatly stack the resources he was using, but not courteous enough to put any of them away. Without much ado, he's making his way toward the door.

It doesn't take Max long to fill out what's needed to get a library card, which she tucks away into one of her pockets. "Think he's having trouble finding what he's looking for," she offers quietly to Tock, as if to reassure him that whatever frustrations the other mortal is feeling weren't aimed toward him. Bright blue eyes follow the large figure as Desean makes his way out, making a mental note to herself to find him later. Maybe she could help. Then she glances over to Tock again with a smile. "You sure have been helpful."

Desean makes his way out, ignoring the sidebar conversation.