who: open @luxorstartersâ
when: sometime during the day
where: library
Things were going relatively well since the Fourth of July party, which seemed suspiciously odd to Marcello for a number of reasons. He wasnât familiar with the sense of security he was falling into with his daily routine, and it had been quite some time since he got into an altercation. For a moment, peace seemed almost unachievable with the Crusadeâs terror and the constant lurking of some nuisance or another lurking over his shoulder. Even now in the confines of a row of bookcases, Marcello felt out of place and almost delirious. His fingers trailed the spine of a random book, a sigh escaping his lips to break the eerie silence. His head tilted to the side, meeting the eyes of someone standing beside him, a small furrow of his brows his only showcase of surprise. He held their gaze, a small frown coming to his lips as he watched the other with stern eyes. Stuck in thoughts too complex for his current time and place, Marcello obliviously stood in the pathway to the other side of the bookshelf. âSomething the matter?â he asked brusquely. His gaze fell to the books in front of his view, his hand grabbed one and hastily began to flip through it, as if to evade having to continue further conversation. âIf youâre looking for Hemingway, try The Old Man and the Sea. Itâs over there,â Marcello added on in a bored tone, lazily lifting his finger toward a shelf of books further away from him. At this point, he really had no interest in associating with anybody except a particular person, and she was apparently preoccupied or some shit.Â
Isa was, as of late, extremely invested in her latest research project. Of course classes over summer were the norm for her, not that she minded spending extra time expanding her knowledge, contrary to the fact, she actually enjoyed it more seeing that the library seemed a little extra empty these days. The brunette had been scanning for a collection of books that were aiding her in her assignment, scanning the isles for the particular author when she nearly bumped into Marcello. His discourteous tone making her face naturally reflect shock as she tilted her head, âI just need to...â She managed to squeeze in the small space that he had left for someone passing to get to the other side of him, âget over here.â She finished after successfully doing it without touching the boy, shaking her head no, and letting a giggle fall from her lips, âOh no. Not looking for Hemingway. Fiction is not my favorite.â Not that Hemingway only wrote fiction, but it was what he was known for. âYou know, for someone who is trying to improve my impression of you, you really need to work on your greetings.âÂ