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Anthony Darrow liked to be familiar with every corner of his library, and often took to shelf reading and shelving the returned books personally just so he could stay aware of what was popular, what never moved, and what mysteriously went missing more often than not. It allowed him to keep trouble spots in mind, particularly where students and kids with nothing better to do in the afternoon liked to hang out and make messes or noise, and gave him a living encyclopedia of his own sections and book catalogue. Of course, there was no way he could ever memorize everything, no matter how many hours he spent roaming these familiar shelves.

That, however, was not enough of a reason to not at least try. Beyond the practical, he just had a deep love of books and the conveyance of knowledge, no matter the topic. He liked to see others learning, and offering the ability for them to explore whatever interests, new or old, that brought them to him. While he did have a computer with an exhaustive reference program for the entire library, it always brought him satisfaction to be able to personally walk someone to a book that helped them. Or at least put them on the path to what they wanted.

The third floor of the library was commonly called the Research Institute, though it was not tied to any official entity outside the library itself. Many scholars and local enthusiasts spent hours and hours within its halls, though, trawling the endless stacks of reference materials stored there. It is a knowledge databank of its own, comparable to a deep dive into the internet info-pedia pages, but much more tactile. Some of the references were too old to even be scanned, or in strange languages just waiting to be translated. Educators, students, and dedicated researchers found it to be a rewarding place to do their work, and Tony was happy to oblige them.

This was where he was working today, organizing some of the microfiche and film slides that had recently been dug through by a very zealous young reporter.

Tony looked up from his work, shaking his head with a sigh.

"It seems no one is capable of looking through these particular archives without throwing them all over the place. Though I suppose the slides are usually bad, as well. And the DVDs... and the children's books. And the regular books. Actually... why do I have a library, again?"

He shook his head teasingly, always fond of even the most menial task in his work. If putting all these microfiche jackets back in proper order was the worst he had to do today, he could not complain. It was easy enough, and no one was hurt at the end of the day.

"I would hardly make one of my guests, not to mention my friend, work for free. I'll take care of this in due time. What was it you were working on, anyway?"

From one of her many beds around the library, Dogby lifted her head at the familiar voices. Getting down from the desk to get over to them, however, was going to be a real trial.

Tony sighed, nodding his head. He probably did have a problem he should get looked at, if he found things like this to be pleasant and even entertaining in their way.

"I suppose we both occupy our time in ways others might find strange," Tony laughed, shaking his head and looking over at the table where Zac had been working so diligently. There was a lot of reading material there, though Tony's eyes flashed and he looked a little like a kicked puppy as he worried for the book's safety.

Of course, he knew Zac wouldn't harm the books, no matter how frustrating the work was.

Laughing, he could only imagine what the people Zac worked with thought of his handwriting. It was rather... well. As long as he could read it, that was one thing, but if he was giving it to others?

"You'll have to give them a way to decode your brand of short hand, then," he grinned, "But I'll take that book so it can't hurt you any more. And you can't hurt it." The poor, unassuming orange book had no idea how close to death it had come. But Tony was its knight in shining armor.

Whining from the desk, louder now, the corgi puppy looked down at the stack of books Tony had made for her on the other side of the desk in hopes of helping her get up and down. It was still just a little too tall for her liking, and she decided to cry at it to see if that fixed things.

Tony looked toward the desk, chuckling and shaking his head.

"Ah, no, she's just being lazy, I think. She knows you'll pick her up if she cries enough," he grinned, though it was very true. Dogby had a way of getting people to do things for her: Tony was not the least susceptible to this skill. She was a devious little puppy, if he stopped to think about it, utilizing her cuteness to her advantage and getting out of difficult situations with ease.

Like getting down from a desk. Who needed to use the stairs Tony painstakingly built for her with duplicate books from the archives, when she could just have a friend pick her up and carry her around?

He put his hands on his hips, but made no move to help the puppy. Dogby whined again, patting her little paws against the counter and looking over at Zac hopelessly. He waved his hand, moving to collect the orange book so it could avoid any terrible fate looming in its future.

Tony tried not to let his amusement be too obvious as he watched Zac valiantly try to stand up to the emotional bully that was Dogby. But the puppy had already mastered the art of manipulating those around her with her cute wiles, and it was no easy task to deny her when she started putting on a show for attention. Tony knew she was perfectly capable of getting on and off the front desk with no trouble in the day to day: she was choosing not to now because she saw a cuddle opportunity.

Looking down at the hated orange book now in his hand, he wondered about adding it to Dogby's staircase, so it might be just a little bit easier for her...

"She is a demon," Tony said flatly, shaking his head. He laughed as Dogby yipped and wiggled excitedly, hopping on her tiny legs and eagerly accepting the help that was so freely offered to her, without any sort of manipulation at all. "She gets me all the time at home, but it's easier here at the library. I suppose she has so many other new friends to make, she all but forgets about me. Until it's dinner time, of course."

At least Dogby looked very happy, and her love was pure. She really was just fueled by the need for hugs at all times.