Chapter Text
There was a tourist in the library, and a striking one at that. He stalked around the shelves in an ostentatious blue coat, sleek midnight vest with a matching ascot, and tight black pants, head uncovered to reveal white hair pushed back from sharp blue eyes. He was stacking books in one hand, pulling out tomes of history and esoteric doctrine about The Dark Knight Sparda, while the other held some kind of elaborate tasseled walking stick in striking black and shimmering gold.
Most of the books in Fortuna's biggest public library were about Sparda, but how he moved through the stacks…
Milan had seen countless tourists browse the shelves before, ever since she started working at the library two years ago. Tourists typically moved with a casual, amused whimsy among the texts, not quite believing what the island professed to be true. This tourist was on a mission, and as his stack of books got higher and higher, Milan wondered who he was to be so invested in Sparda.
After another minute of watching him prowling the stacks, Milan returned to her own book and made another note on an inconsistency between the history and accepted doctrine. Worship of The Dark Knight was the only way of life for a Fortuna citizen and Milan was no different. Unfortunately, she had always gotten in trouble at the children's home for asking too many questions, and was no different in that regard at sixteen than she was at six. So she paged through one of the older historicals on Sparda and compared it's records with what was taught. Until the tourist in blue stepped up to her table with a wrinkle in his brow. A handsome tourist needing her help; she'd had much worse interruptions to her scant personal time.
Milan slipped the ribbon marker in place and closed the book, opening her mouth to ask what he wanted. She couldn't get a single sound out before he swept the book she was just holding off the table and added it to the top of his rather tall pile, turning on his heel without a word and walking to the door.
After a moment of pure shock Milan jumped up and stomped after him, snatching the book back off his stack as he pushed the first set of glass doors open.
“I was reading that, jackass.”
The librarian at the desk gave her a scandalized look for swearing, but Milan only had eyes for the tourist. Slowly, deliberately, he turned on his heel and faced her—his face cold as marble.
“I need that book.” He spoke it like it was the gravest sentence in the world.
Milan snorted and rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, well I already checked it out. So you'll have to wait two weeks.”
“You can't possibly comprehend the power in these texts.”
“You don't seem to comprehend the power of our checkout system. Do you even have a card with us?”
He was half-in the foyer, practically out the door, and certainly had not stopped at the main desk. Was this how libraries worked where he was from? Well tough shit, he was in Fortuna now. She reached out to take the tower of books still balanced in his hand, but he just leaned his cane against the door-frame and set his free hand on top of the stack. That was all, just rested it with no apparent effort but a narrowing of those cold blue eyes. It was like trying to pull the books out of a vise and when the slightest hint of a smirk curled the corner of his mouth Milan snarled,
“Look asshole, it's less than a cup of coffee for non-citizens to get a card here, and it'll last you five years before it needs to be refreshed. But if you don't check these out, I'll call the Guard on your ass and then you'll really be in trouble.”
The bastard actually had the audacity to chuckle before giving the tower a sharp tug. The thick leather covers scraped her fingers as they were jerked out of her grip, but he didn't make for the exit. Instead, he purposefully stepped up to the main desk and with a thump left the books in a neat stack. All while maintaining perfect eye-contact with Milan.
The tourist bowed, smirking, and picked up his ridiculous walking stick. He strutted out the door while tapping his cane’s gold heel on the ground with every step, until he turned a corner and vanished from sight.
“What a dick…” Milan muttered, causing another round of tutting from the librarian.
“Milan! How will you ever find a husband with language like that?!”
“If a few swears is a deal breaker for any man, then I wouldn't want him anyway.”
She tried to lift the books the tourist left on the desk as he had—balanced in one hand as easily as someone might carry a platter of finger food—but she could barely lift the mass of thick texts with both hands. That tourist was no body builder, that coat was far too tight for him to be hiding that sort of bulk, yet somehow he had carried these tomes one-handed without a care in the world.
She heaved the books into the re-shelving section and returned to her notes, hoping that tourist did something stupid in front of the Guards. See how long he could keep up his smirk then.
The next day while she was on shift and trying to find a book for a citizen, and it wasn’t on the shelf; it wasn’t waiting to be re-shelved, and their records didn’t show it being checked out. It was, funnily enough, one of the books Milan had to re-shelf yesterday from the jackass tourist’s book pile. Curious. It didn’t take long before she found every book that asshole in the blue coat wanted to take was missing from their shelves. All but one, the one she had checked out and taken home with her after the library was closed.
If she ever saw that tourist again, she’d break his nose before calling the Guard.