Max had no idea how long he sat in that church, but his eyes were well adjusted to the darkness by the time he stirred to leave. He hadn't found any great revelation, no "ah hah!" moment that he felt he had been promised. Stupid God. He promised so much, and when you came to see what he had to offer, there was nothing. Scowling, feeling like an idiot, he placed both hands on either side of his hips to hoist himself upwards. But instead of pew, his left hand fell on something small, soft, and slidey.
The last time he had checked, Bibles came in hard cover in churches. Brian knew that, and therefore so did he. Raising a brow, he picked the book up, holding it in the moonlight. His brows wrinkled as he read the cover. "Love letters of great men and women from the eighteenth to the present day," he murmured, snorting in surprise. "Well I'll be damned. Somebody's sneaking some naughty reading when they're supposed to be thinking clean thoughts." He wasn't sure who he was talking to, but his silent audience encouraged him.
Standing, he flipped the book open, looking for a name in the cover. No name. He frowned, flipping through the pages. "Who would leave this here..." As he walked out of the church, he seemed completely engrossed in the story though he was merely rifling through the pages. Finally, one of the pages fell open as if calling to him. Surprised, he pulled out a little note.
As he walked back to Bellum, the moonlight was strong enough for him to read the note by. His brow creased as he read it, and by the end, he was holding in a hearty laugh. It was like if Sylvia Plath had been addicted to romantic comedies. He finally let the laugh out, opening the doors to Bellum and walking swiftly through the lobby. He had never heard of this "BookCrossing.com," but this strange woman - only women thought about this nonsense - had left her user name with the note.
He skipped up the stairs to the third floor, full of glee as he opened the door to Brian's apartment. He'd have to read a few of these mushy letters and drop this strange little lady a line. If she could write things this funny, who knew how much she could entertain him later?