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Eli should be at home, finishing his work. But he'd always concentrated better working to music, The numbers on page then seemed to work themselves out in time to the music. And his phonograph was lonely, much like Eli. So, here he was: the library.

He picked up his record choices delicately; shellac could chip and crack if Eli wasn't careful. Classical music was his favorite: beautiful, soaring pieces that tripped along his heartstrings. Music was just numbers after all, but mixed with some special quality to make it something else. Wandering aimlessly through the stacks (where was the librarian's desk, anyway?), his mind took it's usual path, flinging the awful reality of his recent failed relationship in his face... again. Eli sighed and changed directions. Really, this library was too large. Too large, just like the odds of Eli ever falling in love again.

An average male has 10 relationships in his life (Eli was up to 11), and falls in love about 6 times. A person meets roughly 100 new people a year, about .32 people a day. So judging from that, Eli had a 1 in 1149 chance to have a relationship with any person he might meet, and a 1 in 1917 chance of falling in love. To be honest, those numbers were quite depressing. "Just... stop thinking, Eli." He closed his eyes briefly in exasperation.

Unfortunately for Eli, he was still walking when he closed his eyes. He opened his eyes and and made a small noise of distress. There was someone right in front of him, browsing the stacks! He careened wildly, trying to avoid smacking into the poor guy. And promptly lost any balance he had. His long legs twisted underneath him, and shellac records went flying as he most spectacularly fell down. Eli tried to grab wildly at the bookshelf to prevent his eventual descent, but grabbed a shoulder instead.

Whoops.

Eli blinked owlishly up at the young man he'd just taken a tumble with. What a novel situation: looking up at someone. He grinned amiably, a slightly crooked smile with perfect teeth. He picked himself up off the floor, absently stepping on an already shattered phonograph disc. That copy of music, lost forever. Great, move here and wreck the library. Good job. Eli ran his hand through his horribly disheveled black hair, mussing it further.

The young man was fixing his glasses somewhat irritably, it seemed. Though what good the glasses did with that hair swooped over his eyes, Eli didn't know. A rather colorful kid was hovering nearby, smiling, full of nervous energy. What a strange duo, Scowl-o-mir and the Sunshine Kid. Eli swooped and picked up a book off of the floor. Something about unicorns and horses. "I believe this is yours, kiddo." No way this book was Scowl-o-mir's. He chuckled at the thought and began picking up discs.. With a cursory glance at the damage, he set everything on a mostly empty shelf.

Crap, he hadn't even apologized! To the first official person he'd met in this town, even.

"Er, sorry! Are you alright? Well then. I'm Eli. Eli Haddock. Terribly sorry about that.I have a bad habit of wool-gathering. Can I do anything for you in recompense?" Eli grinned again and stuck out his hand.

"Sorry again, gentlemen. I really appreciate the help." Eli was momentarily blinded by Friday's fantastically toothy smile. He blinked owlishly. How was showing that much teeth possible? He shook off the effect and ruffled Lemon's hair fondly. The kid kinda reminded him of his exuberant sister back in Faleen. He was decidedly the more fascinating of the two; Friday was nice, polite, and good-looking enough, but Lemon was... colorful, for lack of a better word. Eli could already feel his spirits lifting, just from being around the bouncy kid. He glanced at Friday. "I bet he's a handful, huh?" Eli hadn't missed the short glare Friday had sent the kid. He wondered briefly if Scowl-o-mir knew how piercing his gaze was when he was perturbed. Probably didn't care. He chuckled: there you go again, Eli, thinking weird things.

Grabbing the last bits of records, (not all were broken, thank Aevah), he deposited them on the now-full shelf. The wastefulness made him frown briefly. Whatever, he'd buy the library a whole new music section if needed. It didn't have enough horn pieces anyway, lots of strings, which were fine enough, but not as mellow as he liked. Turning towards Lemon, he opened his mouth, "So, what is the diff-", and was promptly cut off by an incoherent stuttering.

The librarian had arrived. "W-what happened here?! Do you know the value, the cultural significance?" The old man's hands fluttered delicately in distress. "Don't worry, I'll pay for all of it, of course. Perhaps I can convince my father, Henry Haddock, to make a substantial donation for your trouble, if that would be acceptable." Eli hated namedropping his father, but damn, sometimes it worked. Of course, he'd be the one making the donation, but nobody recognized his name, lowly accountant Eli Haddock. His father's name was attached to railroads across the continent, however.

The old man wiped his hands on his vest and smiled warily. "Oh. Very well, Mr. Haddock. Please visit the front desk upon leaving. I will send someone to sweep the rest of this up." Just as abruptly as he had appeared, the aged librarian melted soundlessly into the stacks.

"That was... mildly creepy." Eli chuckled deeply, more than slightly embarrassed. "Well, Lemon, I believe I have been summoned to the desk. Would you do me the grand favor of helping me carry these blasted things? You can tell me about unihorses on the way. That is, if it's okay with you, Friday?" Hah, that really was an odd name, Eli thought. Who named their lad after a weekday? Wouldn't a weekend be better? At least the name had letters in multiples of 3. So much easier than way. Rounder.

Honestly, Friday Antiques' smirk was vaguely unnerving. It was like he knew some secret joke, and that joke was at the expense of everyone else. Eli studied Friday briefly. There was something about him... As he turned to that stacks, Eli caught a faint flicker of... disgust? Couldn't be. Friday had been nothing if not polite and courteous. Eli shrugged, his wide shoulders comically stretching his dapper green vest. He would give anything to be shirtless right now. It was so much more freeing.

"Well, Sir Lemon, shall we be off?" Honestly, Eli could have carried all the records himself. Being tall meant long arms and he had large hands with long, subtly elegant fingers. But Eli was a nosy, sociable type of gentleman. And Friday was, well taciturn wasn't the correct word, but he certainly wasn't forthright like the little kid, who had shockingly violet eyes. This town sure was weird.

Lemon chattered like a magpie with a new shiny. Eli found himself surprisingly pleased, his mouth crinkling into an involuntary smile more often than not. Ah~ to be young again. When you grow old, you have regrets, make bad decisions, have a thousands marks of life against you: learn how to lie and how to hurt people.  Childlike innocence disappears all too soon. He looked at Lemon fondly as they walked. Maybe he needed a kid. Having a child usually required a lover first.  And, here Eli was again, going off on a tangent that ended up at his miserable single-hood. He snorted in disgust at himself. I even sound old.  "I'll just get a fish or something." he muttered.

Abruptly, he realized Lemon had asked him a question, several questions, more likely. Grinning, Eli decided to have a little fun. "I'm so tall because I ate all of my vegetables as a kid, and..." he lowered his voice conspiratorily and leaned down closer to Lemon "My Grandad was a part of the Tall Treefolk!" This was obviously a lie, but Eli liked using a different reason each time he was asked about his height. It happened a lot. "Since I'm such a great tall beast, just talk to my elbows. Can't send you back to your friend with a sore neck, now can we? Ah, we're here. One moment, kiddo."

Arriving at the counter, Eli set the discs carefully down and tried to ignore the accusing glares of the staff. They sorted quickly through the pile. Not everything was broken, thank goodness. Eli quickly pulled out his wallet and paid for the damages and for their trouble. He sighed. The undamaged records safely stowed in his bag, Eli poked his head about. Luckily, Lemon had decided to stick nearby. Though, Eli mused, with that umbrella he wouldn't have been hard to find.

"To answer your other questions, the name unicorn come from the Latin 'uni', meaning 'one', and 'cornus', meaning 'horn'. So it's just like calling it a unihorn." Eli paused for a second, digging up old knowledge from within his brain. "It's said that horses and unicorns were originally brothers. Over time, though, humans and other fantastical creatures, the chimera, the harpies, began to hunt the unicorn for it's glorious horn. The hunting was devastating, so that the last unicorns ripped off their own horns and forsook their groves. They hid among their horse brothers. Gradually, they forgot their otherworldly grace, forgot what it meant to be a unicorn. But sometimes, although their blood is mixed, a horned unicorn is born. One hasn't been seen in centuries though." Eli's voice trailed off wistfully.

His logical mind should eschew any fantastical or mythological creatures. However, the myths had to come from somewhere. There was a certain romantic allure about unicorns and their ilk. And of course, in his hopeless romantic way, Eli's library had a whole section devoted to imagined animals. He coughed, embarrassed.

"Anyway, why the sudden interest in such fantastic creatures? No offense meant," he chuckled, "But your man Friday doesn't seem the type to read about chimeras and unicorns." As he talked, he gently steered Lemon back in the direction they came. He couldn't just let the kid go off on his own

Eli watched the young boy's eyes glaze over, the violet orbs almost glowing with an inner fire. Here was one prone to flights of fancy. He understood completely: when you're young, the most interesting things don't exist. With age comes the realization that people are just as varied and fantastical as any imagined creature read about in books. Eli wondered vaguely if mythical creatures were simply created as allegories for men. Each creature represented a characteristic of men, generally over-exaggerated negative traits. The unicorn, the epitome of innocent pride; the harpies, greed and incoherent rage, their name literally meaning 'to snatch'; the chimera... Eli shook himself. Woolgathering again.

He grinned as Lemon succinctly summed up unicorn history with a fascinating simplicity lacking in most people. But his next phrase threw Eli for a loop, bringing him abruptly back to reality. Reality: he was walking in a huge library with a child who had just claimed to be mythical. Eli glance at Lemon quickly, thoroughly. Was he hiding furry ears or a tail; could Lemon suddenly change into a bat and fly away on a breath of wind?  How could this normal child be something fantastical? Sure, Lemon was decidedly colorful, but that wasn't indicative of any strange origin. Mythical things were just that: myths, legends, not real, not here and now. They were in stories his grandmother told, not standing in front of him, idly swinging an umbrella around.

Eli's ears perked up at Friday's scathing tone. Oh. He was one of them: fickle, changing, not to be trusted. Like everyone else. He wondered dispassionately if the real Friday was polite at heart or if that was just a fictitious mask. He knew he was being cynical; he knew he shouldn't judge so soon, so harshly. Eli turned to more fully look at the other man. And snorted inelegantly. Friday was reaching at the most awkward angle to reach a book on the top shelf. 

"Apparently, you're the puzzle, Friday." Secretly, Eli has a sneaking suspicion that Lemon was right. The man was different. "Here, let me get that for you." At last, a use for his ridiculous height! As Eli stepped near Friday and reached up to take the book, Friday swung around to face him, effectively trapping himself between Eli and the bookshelf. "Uh, one moment, I've almost got the book. Sorry..." He chuckled. Forever apologizing, forever getting into odd positions with this fellow.

Eli glanced down, a mere sliding of his ale-brown eyes.  Friday's head was bowed a little; even held high, it would have fit perfectly underneath Eli's chin. He wondered how many times he had used this trick to gently corner a girl he liked. Unfortunately for Eli, Friday was no blushingly cute girl, but a stiffly polite young man. He sighed. Oh, right, he was supposed to be getting a book. His long fingers easily grasped the spine, yanking the heavy book down. A small cloud of dust followed in its wake. Coughing, Eli stepped back, no longer invading Friday's personal space.

"I seem to keep impeding you, sorry." Some dust had floated down to settle on Friday's shoulder; he brushed it off absently. Crap, he should stop violating this poor man's personal boundaries, Eli chided himself. He brandished the book victoriously.

"Collection of Demons and Mythical Entities? Odd choice. And here Lemon was just telling me he's a mythical creature too. Kids say the oddest things, don't they?" His tone was gentle probing, genuinely curious, silently hoping that Lemon was something else. If one thing was real, others might be too. Visions of oblong smoke Belkers and the pure Enenras filled his mind, laughing at his foolish hopes. He tried quashing his romantically hopeful self. Lemon was a child and every child believes himself to be special. A fantasy, nothing more.

The dichotomy of  Lemon and Friday's relationship was odd, Eli thought as the small boy confronted Friday with all the righteous forthrightness of someone who knows he's not wrong. It wasn't quite parent and child, nor did it seem that they were truly friends like Friday had claimed. Their back and forth gave hints to something else, but Eli couldn't quite put his finger on it. A wayward thought stuck in Eli's mind and grew; Lemon was just like an overly friendly dog. Friday was the unwilling owner. Eli barely had time to form the connection (what a funny mental image!) before Friday stalked away, slamming the book on the table in  a show of frustration. Eli winced.

But he was also shocked by Friday's outburst. He watched as Friday savaged his bottom lip. Eli couldn't help it, even shocked, a vague urge shuddered thorough him: to reach out and run his thumb along Friday's bottom lip, freeing it from it's cruel prison. Shaking, fists balled in his shirt tails, Friday was the picture of someone annoyed to the edge of reasoning. Eli thought that maybe there was someone else at work, though. Such an outburst over a small thing seemed strange. Looking closer, he thought Friday looked... confused,  or lost.  This was a man adrift in the sea, holding only onto a piece of driftwood, and Lemon had yanked that away, exposing both Friday's odd lie and cracking his tenuous control.  Once again, Eli was off in some fantasy world, reading more into things than he probably should.

Eli didn't know why Friday had lied or why that lie was so important.  After all, it could be any number of things and who was he to judge the troubles of a young man? He sighed, suddenly feeling old. But, despite Friday's aggressive stance, Eli found himself wanting to ease the other man's troubles. He was possessed by a vague urge to smooth the lines furrowing Friday's brow, to quiet the annoyance and confusion in those boiling mahogany eyes. What an uncharacteristic turn of thought, Eli mused. Normally, Eli never spared a thought to why people were upset or how to fix it. He left people alone to sort out their own conflicting thoughts. However, Friday in a pique was enchantingly interesting: his white-knuckled fists, annoyance transforming his face into a less-than-handsome rictus.

Eli shoved his hand in his hair, raking his fingers through the night-dark waves. Despite his inclinations, was it really his place to interfere? he'd only just met Friday and Lemon. You could just walk away now, some traitorous inner voice whispered. He rubbed his jaw, caught in an inner debate. The short stubble pricked his fingers and Eli stepped towards Friday. He opened his mouth, but he had never really possessed the gift of gab. Eli stood there, feeling stupid and out of place. Clearing his throat, he tried again."Friday..." his voice trailed off. "Friday, whatever is wrong?"

It boiled down to this: either Friday was overreacting or something was seriously off. He held up his hand: a peace offering, or an attempt to forestall Friday's inevitable protestations of 'nothing'. Lemon forgotten for the time being, Eli opened his mouth again and tried his best. "I know I just met you, but it seems like something's wrong, like you're holding something inside and it's eating you." Pure conjecture, that, but it sounded good and was vague enough that hopefully it would encourage Friday to open up.

"So, if you, uh, feel like talking or anything, I've a fully functional set of ears." Eli smiled weakly and chuckled deprecatingly at himself. So awkward. He looked at Friday, really tried to look. He saw a man so surrounded by prickly pride that Eli wasn't sure if he could ever break through. Strangely enough, Eli wanted to try at least. 

Eli started slightly as Friday slumped into a chair. He stood in silence. Maybe he had gone too far. Why was he interfering anyway? He ran his tongue over his teeth in thought. Curiousity over good manners, he decided, and mentally kicked himself. Maybe he should take lessons in how to be polite from Friday, the man seemed to have a general idea of what was appropriate to say and do. Excepting the current situation, of course.

Shrugging his shoulders, Eli started towards Friday and stopped, trapped like a deer in  headlights as Friday lifted his gaze and pinned Eli with weary eyes. Pinned wasn't the correct word, Eli mused. Slightly unfocused, Friday's eyes seemed worlds larger without the gold frames. Eli swallowed. Those eyes were deep enough for drowning. The red marks on each side of Friday's nose stood out almost comically, typical of a habitual four-eyes.

With Friday's groaned concession, Eli unfroze and casually (he hoped casually) walked over, dropping into a chair across from the other man. Stretching his legs out under the table, he accidentally jostled Friday's leg. With  a murmured "Sorry," Eli leaned forward, resembling a watchful statue in his listening silence. Eli quirked an eyebrow at Friday's normal beginning. As the younger man spoke, Eli busied himself studying the young man's profile.  Faint freckles, barely visible, were scattered across his caramel skin. How youthful. 

Tacky colored bottles? Eli probably would have cherished such an odd knickknack. He loved tacky things precisely for their tackiness! They made him smile or groan at himself, wondering why he had even bought such a thing. Eli smiled and flicked his eyes back over to Friday, who was absently tapping his bottom lip. The lip was swollen, forcibly reminding Eli of long nights with swollen-lipped wet kisses and stolen caresses. Eli shook himself out of staring as Friday spoke again.

A bottle with paint inside just sounded like some juvenile teenager's ill-thought-out prank, to be honest. Eli's eyes widened from their hawkish squint in mild shock. Now the story veered into crazy town. Color-sucking vampire bottles? Really now. Even with his love of the fantastical, Eli found that hard to believe. What did this have to do with Lemon anyway? "Say, Fri-" he trailed off as Friday soldiered on, finishing the tale. So, Lemon came out of a colorful bottle. And Friday expected Eli to believe this? He glanced at Lemon. No oddity there, just a smiling child who was overly attached to his umbrella.

Unfortunately, Eli's first instinct was to laugh. Of course, it was karma; the first person he meets in this new town and he's off his rocker. Delusional. One hysterical chuckle escaped before Eli could stifle it. This was too much. Although, something about Friday's body language told Eli that he believed what he was saying. Eli sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "You're not crazy, are you?"

Glancing over at Lemon, he addressed the silent child. Or was it even child? "Kiddo, are you some sort of, some kind of..." Here he waved his hands around, searching for an appropriate word. There were none. "bottle-born? I mean, why would children be in bottles?" He shot his eyes back over to Friday, still slouched over in his chair. Really, abominable posture. "Why would children be in bottles? How could children be in bottles? Or in this case, one child. Is he a child? What is Lemon? He looks pretty normal. Did you find the old woman and ask her? Even so, why would the bottle leech color?" The questions flew out of Eli's mouth, words tumbling over each other like drunken balloons, stopping to hang in the air between them.


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[LIES IVE SEEN THEM. THEY ARE HERE MEBBE 8D RP TENTATIVELY MAYBE ON?]