Who: Dorian Gray & Sable Harris What: He needs books Where: The Sign of the Weasel, London When: Now-ish Warnings: Oh, who knows. Probably a little.
Dorian had come into a home with many books - books of science and of fantasy, though they mostly consisted of poetry and short stories compiled into large leatherbound volumes which lined the shelves in his parlor. To his dismay, he'd read most every single one of them, and rather than repeat himself (Although he had plenty of time to do so), he ached for new literature. To his good fortune, there was a book store just a quick jaunt down the street from his home.
He stepped in and was immediately enamored with the place. Rogues and musicians were commonplace in this little store, as were comfortable seats and tables, and the place smelled of herbs and tea and baked goods. He looked no less out of place in this store than anywhere else - a casually dressed, young and beautiful man amidst the rabble and beauty of London. Walking through the tall shelves, he found himself looking for nothing in particular. Though his previous discourse with a certain famous detective reminded him that he still hadn't read everything Jules Verne had put out. He wandered quietly in search of the man's works, wondering vaguely, if he was allowed to smoke in this building.