The bottle was heavy enough that when Rousseau placed it in her arms, she faltered slightly -- but grinned anyway, because that was a thing to be done when people helped you. A human gesture, as easy and meaningless as any other.
This was a good day.
Eloise wasn't the kind to cope well with remaining stagnant, when she knew that there were ways she could make herself useful. Perhaps this trip was slightly selfish because it was for no one's real benefit; where before she'd made runs to satisfy the needs of people who couldn't make them themselves, today she'd wanted to leave the Library to settle her mind, focus it on something that did not revolve around love or feelings or Evan or even research. She liked her research. She certainly liked Evan. But there was something that calmed her here, on streets that were anything but calm. Patterns. Strategy.
When she backed away to examine the rest of the aisle, though, something seemed to catch and hold her gaze. Rousseau had a good face: as handsome as any other, and thoughtful in the way of someone who considered things, which was why she had chosen him to come along. But ... When she met his eyes, there was a strangeness somewhere inside of them that she couldn't place.
Ellie couldn't place a lot of things, though, when it came to people. This wasn't anything new. Still: it took her a moment to stop looking at him over her shoulder, after she'd left the water bottle near the pile of their other findings.
When she did turn away, though, something else quickly took her attention, and any question that had been forming in her mind disappeared. Eloise kneeled to sort through a pile of prescription bottles on the floor, adjusting the Russian cap on her head. "Look at these," she murmured, mostly to herself.
Then, to Rousseau: "You should check behind the counter, if you don't mind."