Books were pretty much the way to Dan's charbroiled heart. He had always loved reading, even as a kid when the assignments piled up and everyone else complained about Lord of the Flies or whatever Shakespeare play was on rotation. It meant not talking to anyone, for one thing, but it also meant getting lost in a world that wasn't his - loneliness and a chill from ghosts that took up residence in his head, squatters who refused to leave until Dick showed him how to trick them.
"Really? I'd - yeah, I'd like to see your books," he said; he was curious about Bill's place in general. If it would give him the same feeling, magic crawling against his skin, like vines, the scent of smoke and incense because to him, magic had a particular scent to it in general.
Though the comment about the kissing booth had him surprised. Slightly. Okay, more than slightly. "...why me?" he asked, since that seemed like a depressing thing to hope for.