int. literaria ― early afternoon. ( closed starter for @silkear3d )

Charlie had stumbled into a genuine love for art of all kinds when he was just a boy― afternoons spent plucking away at an old piano his parents had kept in the front room, curled up under the bench of the same instrument with any book he could bring home from school, doodling on every available scrap of notebook paper after the memorable afternoon he’d been scolded within an inch of his life for drawing on the walls in (thankfully) washable marker. Art of all sorts had always had the ability to capture his attention and it was a road he’d only become more and more willing to wander down as he’d gotten older and things had begun to feel much more manageable if he allowed himself some time to escape. 

Literaria had become a haunt for precisely that reason― stepping into the shop for the first time when he’d been twenty-three, three weeks sober, bone tired and in need of the escape he’d craved to find in a healthier way, Charlie had made a home for himself in the shop. Insofar as that was actually possible, of course. He found himself stopping by every other week or so, sometimes longer― it all depended on how voraciously he was devouring all of the books he was trying to collect and that afternoon was no different. He’d blown through the fantasy section on his shelf like a madman and he hoped Jasper was working― they always seemed to have such thoughtful suggestions. 

He smiled warmly as he approached the counter and raised a hand in a cheerful wave. “Hey, Jas. I have― well, I don’t wanna say it’s a challenge because I dunno if it will be for you but I’ve managed to finish all of the fantasy novels on my shelf and I’m sort of craving a few new ones. You’ve always got the best recommendations and there are always gems here, so,” he looked at them with a raised eyebrow. “Would you mind helping me out?”