Deacon doesn't have anything against books. They contain useful shit.
Especially old ones, and some of these seem to be. He isn't taking any out, however, wandering dry fingertips along the leather spines as he waits for the meeting to begin. They never let you smoke in the archives - if they could help it, anyway - but this place doesn't hold the same reserve, and pages will soak up the scent of it. His own cigarette is caught between his blunter teeth at a casual dip, other hand stuffed into a pocket.
His skin has that slightly not-quite-dead shade of pale that indicates he isn't hungry, as promised, moving at a pace as slowly and lazily as the cat that does not currently need to hunt. He is dressed mainly in black, and had no reserve, wandering for the Library.
no subject
Especially old ones, and some of these seem to be. He isn't taking any out, however, wandering dry fingertips along the leather spines as he waits for the meeting to begin. They never let you smoke in the archives - if they could help it, anyway - but this place doesn't hold the same reserve, and pages will soak up the scent of it. His own cigarette is caught between his blunter teeth at a casual dip, other hand stuffed into a pocket.
His skin has that slightly not-quite-dead shade of pale that indicates he isn't hungry, as promised, moving at a pace as slowly and lazily as the cat that does not currently need to hunt. He is dressed mainly in black, and had no reserve, wandering for the Library.