Charlie looked at Damien, that wicked grin still in place. "Exactly!" he replied with enthusiasm. "But you don't get it. I've seen this same exact book before! Look, it's even got my old teachers hand writing on the inside" he said, pointing out the hand scrawled segment about the Dead Poets Society. "Have you found anything yet?" he asked, closing the book. He had to find something else. Anything. Blindly, he grabbed a few poetry books. Some of them were in languages he didn't understand, some of them were just plain odd. One of them even looked a little dirty.
Carrying the piles of books over to pay, he placed them down on the table with a thud, his prized find on the top. Handing over the credit stick, he worked out how he was supposed to make payment and waited for his new friend to come over with the books he had found.