A Day in the Library (Ireland + France)

[luckotheirish]

Sean was fond of the library. The place where he usually sat, in a corner by a window with a nice view, was quiet and calm, the perfect place to read or write, or just sit and relax for a while. There was never a day when he would be unable to find an interesting book, whether it was for recreational purposes or studying. He would curl up with a book, the sunlight from the window warming him and making feel comfortable.

Today, he simply wanted to kill time. After completing a long (and rather frustrating, if he may add) assignment, he wanted to unwind a little, and as it was mid-afternoon (too early to go out for a drink, even for him), he had decided a trip to the library would be a nice getaway. He was stressed and tired, his brain overloaded with thoughts of maths and equations, and all he needed was some nice, quiet time. Time that was spent thinking about anything that was, preferably, not number-related.

He settled down in his corner with a book on general mythology, and skimmed through the pages. More often than not, his mind wandered from the printed words in front of him to various other things. Perhaps soon he could find someone willing to go for a drink with him later that evening, or just someone to chat with. He hadn't talked much with anyone that particular day, and he could feel his inner social bunny begin to get restless.

But, for now, he would simply relax. After all, he wasn't expecting anyone to stop to talk to him...

((Gahhhhh, sorry about shortness. I had to hurry. OTL))

[bonsoir]

Francis hated la bibliothèque. One reason was because there were too many books. Honestly, he enjoyed reading, but libraries look as though they are meant for reading to oblivion. One could sift through nearly endless redundancy to find perhaps two truly good and relevant books on a given row of shelves. But, he hated them mainly because the atmosphere within them was overwhelmingly musty, gloomy, and quiet... Far too quiet for him to concentrate. Not when he could hear his own breathing echoing between the cramped shelves.

Glaring at the dimly lit shelf in front of him, he inspected the decimals haphazardly taped to the spines of the thick volumes before him.

348.9... 349.5... 351.6...

These numbers were far too low. Frowning, he glanced down at the torn scrap of paper the librarian had forced him to scribble his book's information on. His own loopy script read 423.5 in smudged graphite.

Searching the row of books beneath his immediate eye level, he scrutinized how the numbers began to ascend in order. Letting out a sigh, the blonde found himself dropping into a low crouch in order to direct his gaze toward the bottommost shelves.

420.6... 420.9... 421.0... 421.8... 422.4... 423.3... 423.5

"Aha!" He grinned, slipping the worn text out of it's hiding spot. And who thought he couldn't find his way through the library?

"Ah, Bonnefoy, pourquoi faut-il être si difficile à trouver?" He smiled down at the faded cover of Du mouvement et de l’immobilité de Douve by Ives Bonnefoy. Idling flipping through pages filled to the brim with poetry he made his way down the narrow aisle and toward the light of the window, his footsteps muffled by thick carpet.

He stopped infront of one of the large paned windows of the building, before leaning against one of the solid oak shelves. Pulling the book close to his face, he began to read. However, he didn't even get past the first line before he spotted moving red in his peripheral. Peering over the top of his book, he took a closer look- it seemed to be a person, a ginger by the looks of it. Hiding a grin, he did the polite thing in this situation and made his way over. Waving a hand in front of the other's face he let out a whispered, "Bonjour."

[OOC: Sorry for taking so long ;u;]

[luckotheirish]

Sean was so engrossed in both his thoughts and his book that he didn't hear Francis talking to himself, nor did he hear the Frenchman approach him. It was only when he was halfway through a section about the Tuatha Dé Danann that he realized someone else was there. Hearing someone whisper bonjour, he looked up to a hand waving in front of his face.

Blinking, he traced the hand up to an arm, which led up to a face. Curious, he briefly studied the other teen. He (he assumed it was a man, despite the long-ish hair and somewhat feminine, flashy clothing) was fair-haired and fair-skinned, with a distinct aura about him that all but screamed French at him, if the "bonjour" wasn't enough indication. Sean was sure he had seen the other teen before, but he didn't think they'd ever spoken.

Nevertheless, he gave a small smile and set his book down, sitting up a little more so as to better face the Frenchman. "Ah, hello. Did you need anything?" He asked politely.

He idly wondered if the other teen would want to go out for a drink with him. Even though he hadn't even known the other for more than a single minute, he felt the need to chat with someone...preferably over a cup of tea, or better yet, alcohol. It would be nice, and perhaps his rabid inner social bunny would quiet down...

[bonsoir]

Francis watched as the teen sitting in front of him stared at him. The other boy's eyes roaming over his form quite obviously, before focusing on his face. Blinking, the blonde took the chance to properly observe the redheaded boy as well. He seemed to be around his age, with fair skin that was covered in freckles. Green eyes and- Francis raised both eyebrows in surprise.

Mon dieu those had to be some of the thickest eyebrows the blonde had ever seen! ...Actually that was a lie, Kirkland definitely had the thickest eyebrows he had ever scene. Perhaps the two were related? If not for their grands sourcils than perhaps for their similarly colored eyes? Francis shook his head, their being related was no matter to him.

The red hair definitely seemed familiar though and it tugged slightly at the back of his head. How annoying.

Taking a harder look at the ginger teen, the Frenchman realized why he recognized the other teen. Didn't he have third period with him? Wasn't his name something like Seamus or Sam, or maybe it was Sebastian?

Francis politely smiled down toward Seamus-Sam-Sebastian- whatever his name was- as the blonde lowered himself to the ground. Crossing his legs and sitting with his back straight against a book shelf, he tilted his head toward the other, "I simply wished to properly introduce myself. Je s-"

He stumbled slightly over his words, "-I mean, I am Francis Bonnefoy. I've seen you around, I'm sure we share at least one class, mon petite rousse. Nice to meet you."

[luckotheirish]

Sean saw the way Francis's eyes widened somewhat, and had the feeling that the other teen had noticed his eyebrows. He tried not to look annoyed, and he was glad that the Frenchman didn't say anything about them, but there was something about the fact that it was usually the first thing someone noticed about him that was mildly irritating.

Ah well, it couldn't be helped.

There was something familiar about the name Bonnefoy...he could remember seeing a French teen in one of his classes in third period, perhaps that was it. "It's nice to meet you too," he said politely (though he believed he'd just been called 'little' something; he resisted the urge to twitch), "I'm Sean Murphy."

He sat up all the way so that he wasn't straining his back anymore, reaching a hand out for Francis to shake. "I think we do have a class together. It's nice to finally have a chat."

Despite the flamboyant, flashy clothing that looked like it should be worn by a girl--and being French, but he supposed that was a poor reason not to like someone--Sean found that Francis had a likable feeling to him. He noticed the book in the other's arms, and wondered if he needed any help with school.

Then again, school work was one of the last things he wanted to talk about at the moment, so he refrained from asking. Instead, he went out on a limb, and asked, "You wouldn't happen to want to get some lunch with me, would you?"