So he admitted to being highly uneducated, never having stepped into a school, but he didn't like the automatic assumption that the books had to belong to somebody else. But what other impression of him did Kyu-Sik really have to go off of? "Yes, Altan is a timpanist. But the books are mine," Donovan huffed slightly as he peeked into the oven, deciding to give the chicken a few more minutes. He actually enjoyed reading, although the range of subjects changed sporadically as he came across something new he'd been wholly ignorant of. The previous week had been him pouring over books of geology, fascinated by the apparent age of the earth and an interest in seeing some of the vast canyons but doubts he'd ever make it out that way. He'd have to be satisfied with pictures.
"Well, the library's," he clarified with a shrug and a few stirs of the saffron rice before taking it off the heat and serving it on the side of the plates. He did have every intention of returning the books even though the librarian was usually kind enough to waive his late fees. His grasp on world history was a bit shaky, but he did like to think he was somewhat improving it. There was always just too much detail, too many intricacies to ever be fully satisfied with his understanding of a subject. Everyone else had years of learning these things in public school, and Donovan failed to realize the lack of depth they were actually studied in, how much people actually forgot as soon as they left school if they ever actually remembered it at all.
Never having guests over left Donovan with little idea on how he was supposed to keep Kyu-Sik entertained while waiting for the meal to be served, and so he filled a cup of filtered water and brought it over to offer. "That's a good chapter," he commented with a glance down at the illustrations. "At first I thought it would be a good way to go, swift. But the blades got dull so quickly and then it'd take a few chops. I wonder if people fought over who got to go first."