Defaced Pages || dirigeantcourageux
Armin's sour mood was traced across the soft details of his features as he placed his bookbag on his usual table in the old libaray. His annoyance came from one of the few people he considered close to him surprisingly, Eren had been dodging him lately since he knew the blonde was trying to get him to study. He'd finally agreed to meet him today after class, but canceled the last minute. How did the burnette ever expect to get the the scholarship he desired if he wasn't going to be willing to put the effort in? Sure, he wasn't as uptight about it as Armin was, but he didn't have to blow him off. Armin only was so naggy about it because he cared and worried about the other male.
He sighed as he looked over the book shelf ahead of him. There were a few reasons why he picked this dated building over the modern center that was on their highschool's campus. It was quieter there, he didn't have to deal with any one who considered a libaray a hangout zone. He actually felt like he could lost in his thoughts here, or even better, a book. The timeworn books were his favorite thing about this sanctuary, each page had character. It enhanced the experience in ways he felt probably only reading fanatics got. He could only imagine what experiences some of these beauties had been through. Since He was alone today, he decided that he would just do some light reading. It would be nice to give his brain a break from the amount of studying that he'd been putting it through.
His fingers traced over the binding until it fell on an old favorite. A tale of two cities, by the always a pleasure to read, late Charles Dickens. It'd been a few years since he reread it, and he'd always admired this hardcovered copy. He pulled the book from it's place and made his way back to his table. With some effort, he pulled one of the larger, comfortable chairs to the table and settled into what would be his seat for the next few hours. This would be nice, losing his mind in a classic tale would surely soak away all of his anger and straighten out his mood. At least, that's how he felt until he flipped the cover and came face to face with a bold phone number and a name scribbled underneath it. His nose wrinkled, who in the world would do this to such an old copy of a Charles Dickens book? The disrespect put him right back into that state of sourness and without even thinking, he moved to grab his cell phone. This wasn't exactly something he'd do if he wasn't so annoyed, but he was at his breaking point and needed some kind of release. He dialed the number, eyebrows furrowed as he waited for a noise to indicate this person had picked up. He cleared his throat.
"Hello, yes. Is this Jean?"
