Snow isn't the type to often show up at the university, but Barking-Shadow told her to wait in the Maxwell Brooks Library for him (only nominally open on the first floor as a study area) while he ran home for supplies he forgot to pack earlier- he's meeting some girl in charge of a student group that wants to protest animal testing at the local drug company, which is ultimately less interesting to Snow than the obvious 'crush' (this is the word, she has learned) he has on her. The animals in question are rabbits; the real concern is that Pentex has taken them from creatures who might otherwise eat them, or so Snow stubbornly insists on seeing it.

But all of that is unimportant, besides waiting for him to come back as she sits with her feet on a desk and stares down anyone who might tell her to take her boots off of there. It's quiet here, at least, with all of the humans gone home for 'spring break', and she finds that she doesn't mind the way it smells, until she catches the hint of something that shouldn't be here. She thinks. She turns her head, mildly interested, and so she's the first person to see the dead man stumble through the glass doors at the front.

She isn't the first person to approach him, that honor going to a human in cowboy boots who went to offer help and promptly lost the front of his throat, and she certainly doesn't scream, because that would be silly- instead, as more of these things approach, she stands up and pulls out her knife as she considers the situation. Maybe she should go outside- yes, it will give her more room to move, so towards the doors she merrily heads. She is by now apparently the only person not screaming. Awkward.

Team Grope, ASSEMBLE.

In the course of an average 11 PM  to 7 AM shift, a person can only do so many things to keep himself occupied before there's nothing left but the L.A. Times crossword puzzle.  He can make the schedule, which he has done (Poppy can't work Tuesdays anymore because she has a night class, he's actually going to have to fire Drew because even the most apathetic of managers can only ignore the coke residue in the employee bathroom so many times), he can restock the cigarette cartons, he can clean every single mirrored surface in the store until the reflection of his ridiculous eyes is inescapable, he can even occasionally wait on a customer.  Mostly he is refusing cigarettes to minors, whose stray thoughts produce a variety of expressions he doesn't bother to control.

Frequently, this makes them go away faster, and Liam is all right with this.  At 3:09 AM "Ziegfeld Follies hit song of 1913" (eleven letters across) is eluding him, and in the strange way where he never really feels much of anything, he is content. 

From experience, he should know this indicates a massive upheaval of some kind shortly incoming.