Skipping stones in a bigger pond...

She didn't want to go home, it was too quiet, too empty, that and it wasn't really home. Taylor was slipping through the bookshelves of the library glancing around, school had ended almost an hour ago and she hadn't made any new best buds just yet, she rolled her eyes. She had passed through the paranormal romance and sci-fi and was attempting to find some decent classical literature. She was striking out. Frustrated she didn't notice her bag had snagged on one of the large reference books yanking it and several other huge copies off the shelf. Swearing violently she fell to her knees attempting to scoop up the mess before anyone saw the "new girl" wrecking the shelves.

There usually wasn't anyone in the library at this point so when he heard the sound of falling books, he headed over as fast as he could without running. He wasn't really in the mood to deal with...well...anything at this point, but this was his job and one of the few things he had that he enjoyed. Jack spotted the girl--a new face he wasn't familiar with--picking up books off the floor and went over to help. "Everything okay here," he said, trying to put on a smile.

Glancing up she felt a bit flustered shaking her head, embarrassed that she had already shown up on the radar. "No, I'm sorry, the strap on my bag snagged on the books." She stood with her arms full and began sorting the books back onto the appropriate shelf in the order they had been in. "And ya don't need to fake the smile with me," she said glancing over offering him a shrug and a small grin, "Must be irritating having people screwing with your territory all day long."

A small laugh escaped him and he reached for one of the books. "Only when they put my books out of order." He placed it where it belonged on the shelf and grabbed another one. "But you can stop looking so worried, despite what everyone else thinks, I'm not going to kill you for what was obviously an accident. It happens all the time." Most people just left the books on the floor.

Taylor looked confused, tilting her head she looked him over. He didn't look like a mass murderer or even a creep. "What'd'ya mean kill me?" Her soft southern twang rang through her words and she bit her tongue hating that it sounded so out of place. "Who would say something like that?"

He stared at her for a moment before shaking his head and putting away the last of the books. "You really must be new." He sighed; her positive reaction probably wasn't going to last past that afternoon. "It doesn't matter. There anything else I can help you with?"

She felt frustrated. She wasn't sure if he was writing her off because she was new and clueless or because he had his own drama, but she wasn't about to have any of it. "Yeah actually you can. I was wondering if you could help me...I'm looking for a book to read. I've exhausted most of mine and the rest of my collection...well...I wasn't able to bring it with me." Ignoring the slight pang in her chest at having left over 2/3rds of her books in Georgia she shoved her hands in her back pockets. "See, I just moved here and I live on my own...I need something to occupy my time with."

He nodded. Books were something he could do, something he was comfortable with. "Well, first of all, my condolences on the loss of your collection," he said sincerely; he was almost as protective of his books as he was of his guitar and the idea of losing them struck an upsetting chord. "And secondly, what type of stuff do you read? I could probably find you whatever you lost and maybe something new."

Taylor shifted her weight thinking for a moment, "Victor Hugo, Oscar Wilde, Poe. I have read most of their works so I am open to any other authors you would suggest." She watched him curious to see what his reaction was to someone having a somewhat twisted reading list, as she did. "If ya don't know of anything like that, I can settle for historical accounts in novel form, like Wild Swans, Night...things like that."

He stuck his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels for a moment as he went through what he knew about literature in his head. "Well," he said slowly, "James Joyce is a dramatist like Wilde. And you can't really sit down and just thumb through his stuff like you can with Wilde," he pointed out. But not wanted to seem like he was bashing a man who was such a great author, he quickly continued. "Ulysses is a commitment of a few weeks to a few months depending on how fast you read. But the humor is there... just a little more grave and maybe more poignant than Wilde."

She felt herself actually smile for one of the first times since she moved to this iced over hell on earth, "All right, I'll take some of Joyce and by all means pile Ulysses on top." She pulled her bag around the side digging around for her student i.d. card. She was sure to need it to check something out. "How long do I have before they are due back?"

"Usually around three weeks but," he pointed out, "if it's one of the rarer works or if it's needed for a class, it's a lot less." He didn't think that any of the Joyce books were, though, which was good because they took a lot of time to slog through. "You can bring them back in to renew them though and have them out for another three weeks." He started heading a few aisles over to get the books she wanted. "What other authors do you like? Maybe I can pull out a more books you might like."

She shrugged following him staying close to his side so as to not get lost, "Well, I'm open for suggestions honestly. Anything to keep my mind occupied at this point would be a welcome change." She busied herself staring at the shelves as she followed him through the aisles, not noticing as he stopped, crashing into his back sending him sprawling against one of the shelving units.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Grace her ass, when would that predatory fluid part of being a vampire kick in.

The books in his hands feel to the ground as he caught himself on the shelf. He took a moment to catch his breath before straightening, brushing himself off and bending over to pick up the books. Jack ignored the stinging on the palms of his hands. "It's fine," he muttered, plucking out one more book before turning to her. "Is everything okay?" It's a stupid question to ask but he felt like he should ask it. "I mean, not to sound nasty, but you aren't naturally this spacey, right?" Anyone who read Wilde and Poe and enjoyed the stories couldn't be that dippy.

Her cheeks flared up, despite the small amount of blood, a bit embarrassed. "I've always been a bit...clumsy. My aunt said I must've been born under an unlucky star to have the brains and no sense of foot work." It was true, she stumbled quite a bit, so much for the hollywood bullshit of sex appeal in the undead. She was still as awkward and clumsy as she had been before. If anything, she felt a bit worse due to the heightened senses, they distracted her.

She looked at him and shoved his arm gently. "Just cuz I said you didn't have to bullshit a smile doesn't mean you get to tease my two right feet." She was kidding around and hoped he caught on.

He ducked his head with a smile, feeling a little better. "Sorry about the question. It was rude as hell." And it was. He usually wasn't that bad but the thing with Haley stomping on him like she had was throwing him off. "But the brains are a lot more useful than the footwork any day."

She laughed a bit before shaking her head, running a hand through her hair to toss it back out of her eyes. "Don't worry. If you didn't know how to be a bit rude in life, you wouldn't get very far. And it was a fair question seeing as I have already made a mess of your library a second time." She ducked down scooping up the books at his feet, holding them close to her chest nodding her head for him to continue walking her around. "Your hands okay though?"

"I'll never be able to play the violin," he snorted, "but then again, I couldn't before." He held out the stack of books to her, Ulysses on top, of course. "Is this enough books to last for a few weeks?" There were 5 of them but Joyce was a always a bit thick to get through.

She grinned, hands reaching out and accepting them like he was Indian Jones handing over the latest long lost treasure. "Oh these will do perfectly. Thank you....aw you even threw Ulysses on top." She smiled at him. "Follow you to the counter? Promise I won't knock you over this time."

"Well, you're not allowed to follow me behind the desk anyway," he snickered a bit. "So I think I'm safe." He headed to the front desk, slipping around to one of the computers so he could start checking out the books. "I... um... Need to ask for those back." He felt like laughing, more than a little stupid.

Her eyes widened and she held them tighter to her like they were a child or some precious valuable. Letting her southern accent slip through and get a little heavier than she normally did she said in an overly dramatic voice, "But, will you give them back to me? Oh please say you will, first you give them to me and now you want them back? Such a tease."

She either was going to get a laugh or not get the teasing and brand her an imbecile for the rest of her life.

He choked on a laugh that felt a bit wrong coming out of his throat. "I never told you to take them in the first place," he pointed out with half a smile. "I just was asking you if they were okay. But, yes," he assured her, "I'll give them back. And I'll even give back your student ID, which I need."

She handed the books to him before fishing out her I.D. card that she had gotten done that morning. "You didn't exactly fight me over them when I took them, so that means consent in my book." She glanced around the front end of the library. "So this is where you spend most of your time then?" She knew it was a stretch, a bit of a guess if anything, but she knew it was probably true.

He nodded as he scanned the card through the laser, punching in a few keys before handing it back to her. "I work here. No rest for the wicked and all that." He really preferred it in the quiet sanctuary of the library where the idiots of the student body feared to tread. And it was a hell of a lot better than home. "In fact, I'm thinking about setting up a cot in one of the back study areas and showering in the gym."

She nodded her head, "Understandable. You're the first decent person I've met in this shit hole," she muttered. And the silence was so ominous at her apartment. It wasn't quiet, it was silence, it was cold and it was lonely. She felt a sharp pang for her home and she swallowed around the lump that was threatening to rise in her throat. "So, how long have you been here? Born and raised or were you ripped from some wonderful place to be dumped here too?" If he liked it here and took that as an insult, she really couldn't give less of a damn.