![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
Who: Joe and William
Where: The Library
When: Tuesday, just after lunch
What: An unfortunate event which we shall not speak of again. Also book talk.
William was fine. He was fine at lunch, with Spencer looking as if he’d gone from bad to worse and nearly falling asleep in his soup from exhaustion. He was fine when he spoke with Gerard about the thirty-five additional children who’d reported magic fatigue over the weekend, and calculated, as he was sure Gerard had, the potential danger of a magical communicable disease if it continued growing exponentially at the same rate.
He was fine when little Elsie Featherwayt, who seemed to have adopted him as some sort of role model authority figure in lieu of a more appropriate choice, broke down in tears and flung her arms around his neck because she could no longer manage spells in any of her classes. He was even fine after the nasty shock of opening the wrong door on his way back to the library and discovering someone he’d never expected to see again, and definitely not like that.
He was completely fine, up until the point that he heard Ophelia Cowell and Amenophis Mubarak giggling over their homework as usual, apparently unaware that the library served any purpose besides being a convenient place for flirtation, and saw Ophelia lean over to write a note to Amenophis in the margins of a book, at which point he completely and utterly lost his shit.
“Out!” he ordered, standing up and pointing at the slack-jawed pair of idiots frozen over their crime-in-progress. “Out of the library, until you learn to respect published volumes. That goes for everyone else behaving in unacceptable ways, too, you can all clear out and think about your actions.” His voice had risen steadily in volume, far above what he would usually consider appropriate, and suddenly everyone clearing out seemed like a marvelous idea. “Everyone out!” he insisted, marching to the door and whisking it open. “Take your noise-making devices and your sticky smuggled snacks and your pocketed familiars and your exploding inkwells and get out!”
Where: The Library
When: Tuesday, just after lunch
What: An unfortunate event which we shall not speak of again. Also book talk.
William was fine. He was fine at lunch, with Spencer looking as if he’d gone from bad to worse and nearly falling asleep in his soup from exhaustion. He was fine when he spoke with Gerard about the thirty-five additional children who’d reported magic fatigue over the weekend, and calculated, as he was sure Gerard had, the potential danger of a magical communicable disease if it continued growing exponentially at the same rate.
He was fine when little Elsie Featherwayt, who seemed to have adopted him as some sort of role model authority figure in lieu of a more appropriate choice, broke down in tears and flung her arms around his neck because she could no longer manage spells in any of her classes. He was even fine after the nasty shock of opening the wrong door on his way back to the library and discovering someone he’d never expected to see again, and definitely not like that.
He was completely fine, up until the point that he heard Ophelia Cowell and Amenophis Mubarak giggling over their homework as usual, apparently unaware that the library served any purpose besides being a convenient place for flirtation, and saw Ophelia lean over to write a note to Amenophis in the margins of a book, at which point he completely and utterly lost his shit.
“Out!” he ordered, standing up and pointing at the slack-jawed pair of idiots frozen over their crime-in-progress. “Out of the library, until you learn to respect published volumes. That goes for everyone else behaving in unacceptable ways, too, you can all clear out and think about your actions.” His voice had risen steadily in volume, far above what he would usually consider appropriate, and suddenly everyone clearing out seemed like a marvelous idea. “Everyone out!” he insisted, marching to the door and whisking it open. “Take your noise-making devices and your sticky smuggled snacks and your pocketed familiars and your exploding inkwells and get out!”