[It's quiet, but he's not so absorbed in what he's doing that he didn't realise he wasn't alone. The voice comes as little surprise, as he slides another book back into its place on a shelf, and the corners of his lips turn up in the faintest of smiles.]
It's nice. Quiet.
[He stares hard at the spine of one of the books, looking at the markings on the spine that he knows are letters and willing them to become words. Instead they swim, drifting back and forth without ever turning into something that makes sense.
no subject
It's nice. Quiet.
[He stares hard at the spine of one of the books, looking at the markings on the spine that he knows are letters and willing them to become words. Instead they swim, drifting back and forth without ever turning into something that makes sense.
R knows better. He gives up.]
Didn't mean to.. bother you.