Most shops use the back rooms for the owner's private space. Jacobson's uses it to shelve more books.

Most shops use the upstairs as living space. Jacobson's uses it to shelve more books.

The stairs leading to the various floors are solid old wooden things with a tendency to creak. If one walks up two flights to the third story, they will find themselves in a dimly lit third floor-- the topd floor. The shelves are covered in dust, which mainly serves to create ambience. In the back, sunlight floods in through an old round window-- the brightest illumination in the room. The dust motes that hang in the air are turned gold by the sunlight that streams through them. The same sunlight illuminates two faded, over-stuffed, mismatched chairs and a small antique table.

Today, the sun also illuminates a young man of twenty or so.

He's curled up in the larger of the chairs, his feet pulled up under him, the book in his hands positioned Just So to catch the right amount of sun, allowing him to read. The light pours over his light brown skin, picking out detail in gold and honey hues. It runs through his brown-black hair, making it shine. It outlines the fuzzies on his off-white sweater and the lines on his brown-red corduroys. It shines through the thick-framed, stylish pair of glasses left on the table beside him, casting shadows.

He turns a page, continuining to read, enjoying the silence up here.

Used books were cheap books. Ever since Clare had given up on her glasses she made it a point to read more. Reading signified to her the freedom she had, to do what she wanted without those heavy glasses. A bandaid on her nose also signified freedom of the same oppressor.

She picked out four books from the shelves and five more from the cheap bin. She carried them to the third floor to read them. She vaguely noticed the other reader as she sat on the other dusty chair. Dust scattered and Clarity sneezed. "Damn allergies..." She muttered as she placed her found books on the table. All the books she pick seemed to be about a serial killer of some sort except for one which was a fictional biological weapons book. At any rate, in the books that Clarity picked out, it seemed a guarantee that with every chapter something will die.

She wiped the dust off of her patched jacket before picking up the first book. She opened the pages and started reading. She read the book so close to her face that her nose almost seem to touch the pages.

The other reader had glanced up when Clarity came in, and then gone back to his reading.

Now, his curiosity seems to be getting the better of him, and he looks up again, glancing towards the newcomer.

By his colouring, his eyes should be brown-- that deep, rich, bottomless chocolate brown. They're not. instead, they're ice-white, out of place in his warm face.

He cough politely-- or maybe it's from the dust-- and nods towards the person occupying the other chair.

"Hello."

"Hello..." Clare said without looking up. She finished the sentence she was reading before inching the book for a glance at the stranger.

She lowered her book a bit and took a quick glance at the stranger and raised the book only to lower it again in a double-take. Did that guy have white eyes? Contacts must be contacts. Clare gave him a weak smile as a cover up to her confusion. Well no one's around but them, it's safe to talk for a bit. "Whatcha readin'?

He smiles, but ignores the double-take. Instead, he lifts the book in his hands so the title is visible.

"Tale of Two Cities," he replies. The book in his hands looks more than just a bit dog-eared. The pages are well-yellowed.

"You?"

Clare turned the book around and looked at the cover. "Jack the Ripper... Guess it's a classic too." She gave him a big grin before burying her nose in the book once again. The first victim was going to be slaughtered, it was really getting interesting. Plus, from Clare perspective, the pages had that wonderful, old, papery smell. Lucky Clarity liked that smell, there were so many pages to go.

((*Glares at Deca for joining the rp and then making it go nowhere*))

"heh." he laughs, nodding a bit. "I guess it is."


His dark fingers run over the pages of his own book, and then he shrugs and continues reading.

((*Kicks Jack for having non talkative characters then turns the story around*))

Clare sighed, she couldn't read the book, for some reason her eyes were more blurry then usual. Also the absolute silence was killing her. She needed background noise. "Hey Mac, could ja do me a favour? Could you Hum? Not anything special, just a bar or two, repeated?" She looked at him expectingly. She was really great at the 'I am woman do what I say' thing. She wasn't too great at taking no for an answer though.

((S'not my fault. He's talkative, but she's reading and he thrives on attention.))

He looks back up from his book and gives her an uncertain half-smile.

"Hum?" he asks, shifting his position a bit and closing the book on his finger, careful not to lose the page.

A curl falls into his face as he shifts and he brushes it impatiently back.

((If you haven't noticed, your character's reading too. It what people do in bookstores other than buy books. We can argue all day on who's fault it is, but hell it takes two to tango. If you say it's your fault I'll say it 's mine, savvy? OOC out.))

"Hum? What a jip! That was only one note. You're pathetic! That's the last time I ask you for anything. Just so you know you ruined my whole reading experience with your silence." Clarity scuffed and returned to her book. She sent glares over the top of it towards Jon.

((Oi, jeez, calm down already. Yeah, he's reading, and ready to drop it to talk, which was the point. Clare wasn't ready to drop it to talk. That's fine if it's part of her character, but I completely suck at starting roleplays and when I do, I don't like to ahve it fizzle out when someone joins it without any reason or motive for their character to continue.))

Jon raises his dark eyebrows, amazed at the--to him-- sudden outburst. "Hey,wait, what? I didn't eve start yet," he protests.

((Fine, I agree then, it's all my fault. I'm sorry.))

Clarity smirked, this was fun. "Yeah sure, you just didn't have a clue. That's the problem with people today, ignorant. You probably don't have any idea what I'm talking about. Is humming too hard to ask for?" Oh, this will be rich, Clare awaited this answer with baited breath. She placed her book on the arm of her couch and forgot it for the moment.

((x_x You're being sarcastic.))

"Not too hard," and here he grins, "But it's gonna cost ya."

He raises his free hand and rubs thumb and fingers together in a gesture that says 'money.'

Clarity spread her arms wide and indicated that the other person should take a closer look at her. A closer look at her baggy and worn clothes. "Do I look like I have money? Besides, that doesn't guarantee to me that you're a great hummer. What if I paid you and you sounded awful? That would bad business you know. Plus, if anyone else came up here, I would be absolutely embarassed for you."

Well, that wasn't totally true, if he sounded awful, Clare would have a field day.

"Oh... fine. Gratuis this once, and then you're going to have to pay for future background music... or bring a CD player."

He coughs, once. Clears his through. Makes a few 'warm up' noises. nd then hums.

It isn't the song of angels, but it's reasonable enough humming. His voice hits the right notes, at least. The sound made deep in his throat, has a warm quality to it.

He's humming a tune from the musical 'Chicago.'

Clarity was a little disappointed that he wasn't tone deaf but only a little. "You call that humming? Man you're lucky I came around I'll tell you that. What the hell were you humming anyway?" Being the broke person she is, she really didn't spend much time watching movies or broadway shows. She didn't feel like reading anymore, breaking people was more fun.

He sends an icy-white glare in her direction.

"Yes, I call that humming. It's 'all that jazz' from Chicago. Haven't you seen that yet?" Of course, he doesn't know she's completely broke. She's in here, presumably buying books, after all.

His eyes creeped Clare out to no end, but she was strong and held his gaze. Shivers went down her spine and the hairs on the back of her arms went up but she still held his gaze. Clarity didn't share her weaknesses.

"Obviously not. Must have been some crappy show if I've haven't heard of it." Clare sneered.

"Or maybe you're just a shut-in."

The words could have bee harsh, but the tone-- and the expression-- softens them. He drops the glare and shrugs, not wanting to incite a fight.

Too bad for him that's Clarity's goal.

If Clare was male that shot would have been completely below the belt. His tone of voice didn't factor at all to her reaction. "Shut in?! You wish you knew more then I do... I don't waste my life on stupid movies." Clare crossed her arms in front of her and glared at Jon. "It's not like everyone should be into Pop culture and all that crap."

"Just 'cuz it's popular doesn't make it crap," he retorts, his full lips thinning into a frown.

"Besides, I'm not wasting my time on a movie now... I'm wasintg my time on you."

Clare smirked. "Ain't that the truth. Of course it's a waste of time to do anything in this day and age." She picked up the book that was beside her and threw it on the pile. "Didn't catch your name..." She laid back on the chair taking in the dusty surroundings.

"I didn't catch yours," he says back quickly, and then relents. With a shrug, he replies,

"I'm Jon Oneiros." He grabs his glasses with his free hand and slips them on, settling them on his nose.

"It's Clare." She glanced around at the dusty and old books that were for sale. "Ja think they hide anything good up here? Some gruelling death story not made for human eyes? Where they pull all the guts out and turn live men inside out... Now wouldn't that be fun." She grinned evilly at Jon. "Ja wanna go check it out?" She pointed to a very moldy shelf.

Jon glances over, a bit dubious.

"I think it's mostly old histories and law books and things up here," he says, adjusting his glasses.

Clare sank into her chair. "Histories..." She said disappointedly. "Why the hell does a book store need history books. History belongs in the past. Stupid boring lit, thats all it is. Is there anything interesting in this dust ridden place?" She looked at Jon hopefully.

"Yeah, I think the manager's got some porno locked up in the basement."

A joke.

"Woohoo..." She was being sarcastic although she didn't question whether this was true or not. Probably true.

"Oh I got it, lets play a game. You do play games right?" She sat up in her chair and gazed at Jon like a tiger gazing at a landed bird.

He stares right back, like a landed bird with a hidden bazooka.

"Yeah. I play games." Almost smiles. Doesn't, quite.

"Good. The object of the game is to find the dumbest book in the store. The kid's section doesn't count." Clare stood up from her chair. "Of course if you would rather to read that best of times, worst of times bull shit... I won't bother you with my childish games. But I warn you I'll start reading my books out loud, and I can't read worth shit. It'll be fun."