Welcome to Gaia! ::

He'd come to the library a few hours ago, spent some time lamenting the almost wholesale popular demise of ye olde Card Catalog in the beautiful wood drawers with hand typed (on TYPEWRITERS) or hand written entry cards and Dewey decimal numbers, then had meandered to the arts aisle. The 700s were the Arts & Recreation - everything from dance to theater, drawing to riddles. He was fairly certain that stained glass stood as an 'art' and 'recreation' for most people, though there was science in the whole chemical staining and melting point bits. He wanted to see if there were any books on Grisaille. There weren't any dedicated to it that he could find online in digital bookstores- the technique seemed to be too esoteric and mostly a lost art. Modern glass artisans had thousands of options of premade glass sheets, and most tended to use them as boring flats and post modernist art deco misunderstandings of geometric drivel.

He'd found two large, dusty, 1970s books that might have a footnote or something and was fishing despondently through their indexes. What he really needed was a book from pre-1900.

Going back to the aisle in order to find that pre-1900s books, having deposited the first two books he was going to sift through neatly at a nearby table, looked like it might be a little more trouble of maneuvering. There was a very pregnant woman whaling up the works. She probably had as good a reason as he did to be wanting access to the books, though, and lord knows she was probably more inconvenienced by the extra circumference than anyone else. It did make one's arms more like a Tyrannosaurus', having a basketball between oneself and anything else one might want to get at.

At 6'1", Quenton was certain he would be able to reach just about anything needed. Best to be proper then, "Did you need help reaching anything? I'll be here a while, right over there at that table. It'd be no trouble. "

"Quenton. It's a pleasure to make both your acquaintance. And no trouble, really, its the least anyone can do for another. " Reaching up was no problem, sliding out each of the books she'd indicated and making a pile lower until he had them all, and scooped them on both arms. "Where would you like to be? "

He honestly didn't know how or why women were willing to do it. Procreation instinct was a doozy. But then there was all the beauty and growth of motherhood, so maybe it was a happy trade for those who chose it - Maiden, Mother, Crone.

"Painting up a room ready for Sarah? I hope you won't be doing it on your own."

The Librarian is married? Who knew. And managed to spawn his genes, too. It wasn't completely out of the question that someone somewhere might want to take a librarian home and to their bed, he guessed. On the sly Quenton looked to see if there was a band on her finger or if this was something less...traditional.

If the guy was helping her with the room decorating, at least it was a good sign that he'd be sticking around to offer some effort towards being something of a father. "I didn't realize Mr. Darrow .....could."

"Well that's all happy news, " and the indication of kicking though, Quenton flushed, "Goodness, thank you but no. It is a living miracle, don't get me wrong. But strangers around a pregnant woman is bad enough, let alone touching you at all, for some papa bears. I'd rather not peeve him and lose my ability to research here. "

"I don't know how women manage to juggle men and children with such aplomb. " Carrying the books and setting them down was the work of a moment, and no trouble. Did Mr. Darrow keep an eye on her at all? Or maybe she was annoyed with too much keeping an eye on and had told him off to go do his job already and stop fussing on her. He'd heard of it going both ways. He remembered his own mother complaining of it as 'a woman gets pregnant, not becomes an invalid.'

"Is....this...your first?" It seemed a polite, common enough conversational question one might venture. "Either way, congratulations. And to little Sarah. I'll have to keep an eye out if the library suddenly has shower decorations up soon."

"He has two children?" The surprise plainly that more than one woman was willing to take home a bookworm. That she had more than one child, or the willingness of someone to take her home plainly not a source of surprise. One is twenty? That's older than I am. The librarian is that old? And still got it apparently. Found himself a hot new wife. Well now, that's not fair. She probably found him. Its always a bit of a condescension on the part of women to put up with some git man.

"Maybe I'll see her, Harmony, around the college, then," Quenton offered a smile. It was a better chance than the twenty-something, who if he was at the college would be in higher level courses. "Are they excited for a little sibling? I can't imagine my parents having another. I think my mother would decide to strangle my father and be a single parent. "

"Oh, no....I'm sure he is. It isn't any doubt on him as a good person. He works in a library afterall. " Quenton lifted his hands apologetically, " Actually, precisely that...he works in a Library. I love books, and all, but it isn't much on the public-eye Hollywood list of romantic interests. At least not for men. Plenty of movies and such have woman librarians as the love interest. "

" I don't mean offense. I don't know him at all as a person, or yourself, and well...obviously you're very happy. Just run-of-the-mill surprise that geek is ever chic."

He'd have to keep an eye out for a girl with a camera then. She must look something like her mother, children almost always had traits that were traceable as the lineage of their blood. Couldn't be a bad thing, he considered, looking at Kyndall. "Well...I'll leave you to it then. As I said, feel free to ask if you need anything at all. Research is engrossing, but I'm happy for breaks."

"Not that there's a great deal of time for that business anyway with classes and with working on art. But I'd not trade it for the world. " Quenton gave a pleasant smile and nod, not bothering to reiterate the offer already made. If she needed something, she had him or her husband present to be able to call on and that was more than enough he expected. "Best of luck with the decorating, and with Sarah."

As for himself, he should look again at finding something better in the shelves. He'd been distracted being polite and helping out, but his original purpose for returning to the shelves to find Kyndall in the first place came back to mind- grisaille. Glass painting and shading. Pre-1970s stained glass work. He had a lot to do, and he'd rather not have to carry books home all the way to the campus area and apartments. Especially not heavy, huge art books!

So a few more hours of hard study, some xerox machine adventures, and he'd be good to head home.