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The weekend meant Erika had a certain amount of freedom afforded to her. During the school week, there were rules--she couldn't leave the campus, could only go somewhere with a buddy or a teacher's permission. But Shep gave her some breathing room, and he had gotten saddled with an evening shift, so--she had been dropped off at four to stay at the library until dark. Now, settled into place in the literature section, she had a copy of an old novel open on her legs. Her legs were stretched out across the entire aisle, blocking the way for all and sundry. Luckily, this part of the library wasn't widely traversed; no one really bothered with the philosophy section, and Erika was only there because... it was quiet. Peaceful, even, and no one would look for her.

Except, apparently, a man who had pushed a cart into the opening of the aisle and then stopped. He seemed to have a similar idea--hide in the rarely-traversed aisle and read a book, except he had the added cover of a cart. She was momentarily jealous, and almost shut her book and moved. But his cart, such a block as it was, did provide her with extra protection as well... She pursed her lips, and nodded. Okay. He could stay, until she needed help putting this book back.

Which would be soon. She was almost to the indices.

Mostly-suppressed laughter was not suppressed enough, because Erika's attention had been grabbed. Instead of asking for his help, she shut her book and stood to investigate. She had to lean over him to put her book back on the cart, which gave her a small window of time in which she could read--

Read enough of the book to set her face aflame.

The brunette made a strangled little squeaking noise in the back of her throat and stepped back, as if that could help her forget what she'd just read. Sure, sometimes in her books there was writing like that but not so... lewd! Right? Right! Maybe if she poured bleach on her brain she could forget that mental image. Still, she couldn't... Erika looked left and then right for a suitable escape route that didn't involve going over the man. He was reading pornography. Smut. Her big brother would kill her if he knew she'd even looked at words like that.

Erika couldn't even believe she'd looked at words like that.

Erika stared, gray eyes practically bugging out of her head. How could you read that in public and not die? How could you read that in private and not get smote by whatever higher powers were out there? It simply boggled the mind. It confused her, and just... why... why would you even.

He was reading smut.

"I didn't know," she started, and then she flushed so terribly red, she couldn't even talk for a moment. It was mindblowing! It was... insane! "I didn't know people actually... read things like that."

It was true. She had imagined that that sort of thing happened, of course, she'd heard... things... but she had rather purposefully buried thoughts of sex in the back of her head, where she stored troublesome moral complexities until she needed to sort through them. You know, where she didn't need to think about them. "Shouldn't you... be reading that... you know, at. At home?"

So red. So very, very red.

Why would he be offended? Shep always said that you shouldn't do things like that in public, where anybody in the world could see. It just seemed unwise! Why in the world would you do that, anyway?

Maybe she should tell someone who worked there? Although, she really shouldn't have been peeking, if she was honest. And you were perfectly allowed to read in the aisles, hadn't she been doing that just a few seconds ago anyway, it was just that this was so... obscene! Reading porn in the middle of a hallway, what would Shep think if she were to be seen there?

"I'm sorry," she said finally, hoping to avoid any criticism. If he worked there, that meant he could get her kicked out if he wanted. And she didn't want that! Not at all! "Um... Do you work here?"

Sometimes? If he wanted her to squirm, she was. Was this a situation where she needed to go find an adult? She didn't know. They always said to never stay in a place that made you uncomfortable, didn't they?

Definitely squirming. He was a lot bigger than she was, after all. She had to crane her neck to even pretend to be looking at his face, so she just didn't. "I can't reach Kafka," she said, finally, and she pointed up at the shelf with the Russian man's writings. Or where she thought they would be; she was keeping her gaze pointed firmly at the floor. Maybe then she would stop blushing! "I want to get Metamorphosis down but I can't find any of the stools."

He was tall enough to reach! Easily!

"No," she said, crossing her arms and staring determinedly at his shoes. They were held together with duct tape, like hers. Feeling abruptly self-conscious, she curled her toes inside the sneakers and flicked another glance up at the tall, white-haired man. Metamorphosis was college-level reading, and she knew that because she had heard the tall lady down the hall from Shep's apartment bitching about it. In fact, she only wanted to read it because she knew she technically shouldn't be able to read it and understand it. But she would. Just to prove something to herself. "I'm a freshman," she told him. "You don't read Kafka until college. Can I please have the book?"

Do you read French?

Erika flushed a deep red. French was the language she'd most dearly like to learn, but St. Mag's language courses were severely lacking right now. She knew the previous French instructor, along with the instructor of Spanish, had died in the coma sickness more than a year ago. St. Mag's hadn't had any luck in replacing them since, thereby railroading all of the students into Latin classes. Infinitely less enjoyable. But in Knightside, she'd had two years of French. Did that mean she read it? "A little bit," she said, guardedly. "I guess."

Why wouldn't he just hand the book over? She couldn't tell what she was doing with Metamorphosis--just getting a feel for the texture? Taunting her because she didn't have the book? Probably the latter. She wanted that book, but didn't want to make a scene… What did this tall pseudo-librarian even want? Other than to make her squirm, she guessed.

She did trail behind him, starting to look a little annoyed as she did so. "I can," she said, more because he was challenging her than from any true belief that she could handle Candide. "And if I can't I'll borrow a dictionary! Or ask Mr. Graves's cousin for help, he reads French, he's Canadian. I can read it just fine."

What was with the Spanish Inquisition? Librarian inquisition? Someone was inquisiting her and she didn't like it, basically. She made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat and shoved her hands tight into her jeans pockets.