(no subject)

[callnumber.livejournal.com]

Who: Victor and a wilting Clover Clive (Open)
When: Starts at the crack of friggin' dawn in some places, approx wake up call
Where: Library, 'course
What: Booksitting, 'course
Rating: TBA





...

Petulance twisted Victor's features. When the list of potential library assistants reappeared, recollection summoned the names back into his working memory (for personal sensibility didn't care enough to).

In his own hand, even-- the dark-haired man wondered how such information managed to lapse into oblivion. Still, even as weekend approached and his job description ordered working hours beyond the standard week, still he pondered the possibility of this major slip. People were getting paid. Simply outrageous.

A groan distracted him from his session of rigid insensitivity. Victor glanced up. He then rolled his eyes, his attention returning to his paper. Like hell he was going to allow that slacker the lazy pleasure of calling in after making himself sick. Dismiss that idiot, he should.

The librarian would wait, however, with his blue-grey gaze pinned to the clock. There was still the rest of the day.