Studies
Who: Jakob and Michael
Where: The Alexandrian Library
When: Afternoon
Lunch was never spent in the station house, nor whichever diner Jakob chose on any given day. He was something like a social creature, needing to be immersed in the lives of others just as much as he needed the food he was eating. Of course, the weather today meant Jakob couldn't even walk and observe, he couldn't hang around Fontaine Park or just walk the streets and observe.
What he'd opted for in the end was the spot that many people considered the city's repository of knowledge, the Alexandrian. Jakob liked to muse on the fact that history was written by the victors, and in turn that a winning man was a crafty one. So how many of these books were, in fact, tricks that people kept on believing?
The thought kept a smile on Jakob's face as he finished his sandwich, feet dangling from a seat up on the scaffolding in a cordoned area of the library. All it had taken was a flash of his badge to breeze right past the staff, and he'd been given fifteen minutes of peace as he listened to the low murmur of activity beyond the scaffolds. Lunch was over, he still had most of his coffee left, and there was time before he'd get back on the rotation for the city. Crumpling up the wax paper his sandwich had come in, Jakob hopped down from the scaffolds and breezed back into the library-proper, brushing a few crumbs from the breast of his trenchcoat as he moved.
..
Michael wasn't normally a big library person. He'd been spoiled by motion pictures, and the only real use he had for books was for his medical studies. But every now and then, he needed to catch up on the latest medical research, and for that, the best source was, of course, the library. To be honest, he didn't even really like the smell of libraries. His wife had been an avid reader, despite his joking that a woman didn't need to read that much. Probably one of the reasons she left, he mused as he walked through the stacks.
He tried to find the reference section, which was where most of the medical journals were kept, but he'd managed to instead get himself lost. He looked at the numbers on the rows of shelves. "798, 799... that's not it." he sighed as he leaned on the shelves for a moment. There was no two ways about it, he was going to have to ask for directions. Turning, he headed back up the row towards the main walkway, still half-looking at the shelves upon shelves of books instead of where he was going. Which is why it should've been no surprise when he ran into someone. "Pardon me," he said, a bit flustered by the sudden collision.
.
He'd had most of his coffee, yes, but quite suddenly? There was only a drink or two left, the rest sloshing out from the impact with Michael and sopping up the sleeve of Jakob's coat. "Frozen hell!" Jakob cursed in Polish, quickly switching his cup to his other hand and shaking the dampened one.
Ire flashed across his features, swirling in dark eyes as he looked to Michael and forced a shred of composure. "Are you okay? I didn't get you with it, did I? It's quite hot," he lied, curling his hand open and closed rapidly as if he'd been scalded.
..
Michael checked himself, leaning on the nearest shelf for support as he had dropped his cane on impact. He ignored the Polish, assuming it was probably some sort of swear anyways. He wiped a few droplets off his own coat and looked into the man's dark eyes. The coffee wasn't that hot. "I'm okay I think," he said, trying to be disarming with a grin. "Nothing a good wash won't get out." He looked him over. The man looked a bit irritated. "Sorry, that was my fault, I think." He slowly leaned over and picked up his cane. "I'm a little lost and was looking for the research section." He looked at the man's now mostly empty cup. "Here, let me take care of that for you," he said, reaching for his wallet. It was the least he could do.
.
Having people freely give you money was no sort of fun, besides which, what could Jakob expect? Ten cents for the coffee? Waving a hand as Michael reached for his wallet, Jakob tsked softly, slipping his overcoat off to keep the spill from soaking his suit. "It's no problem," he assured the other man, timing the words with the reveal of a badge in his breast pocket, "I very rarely get charged for my coffee."
Had this man just tried to charm him with a smile? Jakob felt somewhat certain of it, and for all his own guile, he sometimes wished he could be a bit less darkly amused and a little more suave. "The research section?" Jakob repeated thoughtfully, "I'm fairly sure it's upstairs, somewhere in with the general archives. The ones that survived the fire, that is," he lied, actually sure that it was back the way Michael had came, but for a left turn instead of a right. But spilled coffee could, to Jakob's mind, be repaid just fine with the thought of this man wandering the archives in frustration.
..
Michael shrugged and put his wallet back as the man waved him off, taking notice of the badge that was flashed at him. Great, a cop. And the type who seemed used to getting his way, even if he had to bully a little to get it. He'd planned on offering to get the overcoat cleaned as well, but he didn't seem like he would've accepted it anyways. Whatever. It was no skin off of his nose- he'd made the gesture and it was rejected. Fair enough.
He looked over at the stairs. "Of course it would be upstairs," he said with a sigh. He wasn't entirely sure it would be upstairs, actually, but he'd had no luck so far, so it wouldn't hurt to check. He looked around for an elevator as he talked. "Oh well, I suppose I should get started then. Sorry to have bothered you, Officer," he said as he started to turn. Inwardly, he winced, realizing that if this guy was anything above that rank, he probably wouldn't be terribly thrilled at being called just "officer".