Intro
The tennis ball barely glances up from the thick tome in front of him.
"…Hello."
A bookmark marks his place before he closes the volume with measured care. His gaze lingers for a moment, assessing without judgment.
"My name is August and I'm the librarian."
The introduction ends there, as though nothing more is required. Silence settles comfortably between the shelves.
"I maintain the collection, answer questions when they're worth asking, and spend most of my time ensuring the books are where they're supposed to be. If I'm difficult to find, I'm usually in the archives."
He adjusts his glasses with a practiced motion.
"I prefer quiet. It's easier to think that way."
Another pause.
"I don't go out of my way to make conversation. Most people mistake that for indifference." His expression doesn't change. "They're usually wrong."
His eyes drift briefly toward the towering shelves surrounding him.
"I simply have very little interest in speaking for the sake of hearing my own voice."
The corner of a page catches his attention, and he smooths it absentmindedly.
"That said…" A slight pause. "If you ask about something I know, I'll answer."
The untrained observer may not realize that this is the closest thing to a warning they'll get. What begins as an explanation has a habit of becoming a lecture. The migration patterns of extinct animals reconstructed from fossils. Failed writing systems that survived only in fragments. The chemistry behind the smell of old books. Defunct railway timetables. Medieval legal disputes over beehives. Deep-sea ecosystems that have never seen sunlight. Marginal notes that became more valuable than the texts they were written in. The history of forgotten measuring units. And so on.
"Most people stop listening long before I've finished."
He doesn't sound disappointed by that fact. Merely observant.
"If you intend to ask a question, ask it because you want the answer."
His attention returns to the book in his hands.
"If not…"
A beat passes.
"…then I'd rather not interrupt the silence."
