He was neither an optimist or a pessimist, instead relying on realism to keep hope in check. The Kalderesh clan magic that had restored Angel's soul to him centuries back had been lost long before modern times to the knowledge of most magical scholars. It had taken one of the tribe's own and a lost manuscript last time. The last place one would probably ever be found was in a dingy magic store in one of the less desireable parts of town.
Lindsey recognized several of the titles before he'd even made it past the first thirty books. Some were harmless, probably in place to keep the novice eyes from wandering towards the more potent volumes. One in particular caught his eye and a memory, his first introduction to ritual through the firm to appease the Senior Partners. The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. He'd never been all that great at it.
His hand paused over a volume high overhead that bore text he was unfamiliar with. The woman's voice nearby registered but went unremarked upon. Child's play. Wonder what kind of spell that's in comment to. He stretched up to tug the volume free of its place, tightly packed in between a book on medieval witchcraft and another on growing better herbs.
So he was unsteady when suddenly he was bumped into from behind, fumbling the book as he nearly lost his precarious balance. It hit the ground, spine up as the pages splayed against the floor. "It's all right," he replied as he bent down to pick up the book he'd dropped. A clean fall, not a single page bent as he snapped it shut in one hand. "No harm done." He frowned, momentarily distracted as the very faint red caught his attention. No rhyme or reason he could see without closer inspection. "I wasn't paying much attention myself."