Library shenanigans

[exuviiated]

Everyone's getting ready for the play, it seems; Aaron's done his best to pull splinters and bandage cuts, grateful that the castle saw fit to provide a tiny pot of bacitracin in one of the bathrooms. He took it and put it in his bag along with the gauze and bandages, confident in the knowledge that a new one of everything show up somewhere else soon.

But for now? He wants a break. Sleeping under the stage may be fun and familiar (sleeping under anything at any time is familiar, if not fun) but the sheer amount of people milling around the area made him...

uncomfortable. So, the next day finds him curled up with an obscenely large book on one of the dusty couches, expecting at any time to be called back to set someone's dislocated finger.

Comments

[dustless]

Frisk can't quite resist the urge to stick their nose into peoples' business, especially now that they're feeling a little more like themselves for the first time in a while.

They're not going to be overly rude about it, not even interrupting his reading or talking; they just slide over behind the couch to peer over Aaron's shoulder, seeing if they can tell what his book might be about.

[exuviiated]

He's too touchy. He knows Frisk is there before they even start breathing on his shoulder.

"Hey." He keeps his voice low; "what's up? Thought I was the only one up here, this time of day. Do you need anything?"

Does he expect an answer? Well--

not really. Rapid-fire questions to an already quiet person likely not the best idea.

[dustless]

Not as stealthy as they thought they were, dangit.

"Don't need stuff, jus' seeing what's up with other people." Frisk pokes his shoulder. "So--what's up?"

[exuviiated]

"I'm, uh." Well, he can't exactly say 'trying to avoid everyone', because Frisk is a kid and he's not ready to sink to that level of crotchety. "I'm just taking a rest. This place has a DSM I've never seen before." A nervous chuckle. "I don't want to put it down because it might disappear."

[dustless]

"Things disappear back to where they used to be..." Frisk pauses to take a serious look at the incredible multitude of shelves around them. "...but that's still a good idea here."

They scoot away from him just enough to lean more dramatically over the back of the couch without smacking their head off him. "What's DSM?"

[exuviiated]

"DSM stands for Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. It's missing a few letters." He cracks a smile and leafs through a section, thumbing the dog-eared pages.

"Well, I don't want to go searching all over for it again."