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Otto Graves was a stranger in the library. When it came to reading, he tended to simply read what he had, over and over again. And quite honestly he had doubts the library had what he wanted. He could have been wrong, but he'd never know unless he tried. When he did visit, it was in search of information, the likes of which he usually never found.

Today, he walked in with the hopes of brushing up on lore that had to do with several topics of interest; Neverland, Wonderland, and maybe find out who this Morgana person was.

But then he saw Ripley at a table. Asleep. Unguarded. It was so unlike him to nap in public, or so Otto thought. He snuck up to the man, quietly deciding what prank he could pull on the white haired gentlemen. Maybe draw on his face? Scare him awake?

Upon closer inspection, Ripley seemed to have a pen in hand. He must of been taking notes, or maybe playing a crossword? Whatever. It was the perfect weapon of opportunity. Otto, slow and careful, began the delicate process of removing the pen from his hand. But as he did, he noticed something else just before his sleeves ended.

A scar?

A familiar scar...

Otto held his breath, waiting to see if the man would wake. Mercifully he'd only stirred. Otto abandoned his earlier plans and chose to investigate this scar. Gently, he held the man's arm, and slowly pulled up the sleeve.

"Christ..." It was a key. Ripley had one too. It was a mix of emotions. Dread, and yet something else. Someone he knew well was in danger, but at the same time, he had someone to confide in that would share his problems.

Otto was no longer gentle. He had questions. Lot's of them. He shook the man's shoulders to rouse him awake. "Ripley! Ripley, wake up!"

Otto looked over his shoulder, realizing maybe he ought to keep his voice down. That was easy enough, he supposed. He turned back to Riley, squatting down next to his chair in some attempt to remain inconspicuous.

"You got a key." He said in a harsh whisper, his hand on his arm again and his face close to keep their conversation private. "How long ago you get that thing? How long?" He was frantic, his expression urgent and almost manic.

"You're wrong." He snapped back with a little more personal emotion than he'd liked. "This is my ********' business."

With the most carelessness he'd shown since receiving his key, Otto pushed out his right palm right in front of Ripley's face. In it, was the red mark of his own key shaped scar.

"Start talkin', dickhead."

"Woke up with it." He answered vaguely, hoping for a little give and take now. He settled his hand down on the arm rest of the chair. "Now you see why it's my business too? Where'd you get it?"

Otto didn't get the hint, and assumed Ripley was trying to lose him. He scoffed, and of course followed him. "Yeah well I do!" He grouched insistently. "Where're you goin'?"

Otto looked offended, and taken aback. "What's that supposed to mean?" He followed him anyway.

Otto stopped, his brows furrowing outside Finn's door.

"This ain't your room, is it?"