Lechance

Having made a brief trip around the city and assessed the state of its bookshops, public spaces, trees and architecture, Charles had decided he could do no worse, and almost certainly he could also do no better. The place was elegantly built, full of intersecting parts in a way that made him faintly homesick and absolutely fond.

He'd come back and gotten himself settled in the hotel; he'd go find somewhere to eat if he was hungry in the slightest, but somehow the new books he had in his possession looked far more appetizing than any mere slab of meat or cheese. He took an apple down to the lobby of the hotel and installed himself on one of the sofas there, hat taking up the seat beside in case he should decide to go out later.

Three books took up an awkward space in his hands; he hummed to himself as he decided which he wanted to begin first. He did not read one book end to end; no, he would have each in parts until he devoured them all.

He thought perhaps the easiest way to decide was to read the first page of each. He propped each one in a slightly different angle on his knees so he could see all three such pages together, eyes skimming across the text, one after another.