extra, extra

𝖻𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗒'𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵

[hotbobbys]

𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐁𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐘𝐒 written by 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙮 for 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗻𝗳𝗺

𝗙𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 ... robert "rob" tremblay, 35, investment banker line cook @ hot tony's pizzeria ... konrad "kuno" sudiro, 40, electrician ... lilavati "lila" adyanthaya, 30, orthodontist ...

[btwnthepines]

open starter from ... 𝙸𝙽É𝚂

𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐; @pinehavenstarters

the discount beauty supply store’s overhead tubes buzzed with a low grade, yellow glare, sending a dull ache right behind inés’s brow. she stood marooned in aisle four, breathing in a cheap perfume of synthetic wig fibers and harsh paint stripper, feeling her pride shrivel behind the dark shield of her oversized sunglasses. southern california had spoiled her; her fingers, usually pampered to perfection by a woman named mimi in a salon off sunset boulevard, currently felt naked and half ruined. the edges of her cuticles were dry, the last remnants of her salon grade gel manicure grown out into an ugly, crescent moon gap at the base of each nail. the necessity of budgeting since her return had forced her into this brightly lit purgatory, and the realization that she was reduced to a nine dollar bottle of drugstore lacquer sat in her throat like a swallow of vinegar. yet another tiny, stinging defeat, a public admission that the glittering life she'd imagined was gone.

she held up two bottles, tilting them against the harsh glare of the tubes overhead. in her left hand was a screaming, unapologetic crimson; in her right, a muted, sophisticated mauve that promised a gel like shine without the UV light. both felt like counterfeit versions of the woman she used to be for what had felt like one brilliant spark of the stars. sensing a presence to her right, inés slowly turned her head, smoothing the sour crease from her lips as she eyed them standing near the cuticle nippers. in the middle of her private tragedy, she couldn’t quite place if this face belonged to someone she knew, but inés didn't need an acquaintance to stage a performance. she needed an audience.

she lowered her sunglasses to the bridge of her nose, her eyes flashing with intrigue as she offered both bottles toward the stranger. "tell me," inés murmured, her voice carrying a smooth, dramatic lilt that made even a casual question sound like a theatrical monologue. "i am having lunch with a few of my old high school friends today, and i can't decide which of these paints the correct picture. does the crimson say, i might be a bit of a disgrace now, maritza, but at least my husband doesn't keep a second family hidden away on the east coast...or is that more of a mauve sentiment?" she let her dark lashes sweep downward in a slow, expectant blink, entirely indifferent to the absurdity of spilling such specific, localized laundry in a discount aisle.

[hotbobbys]

he  reads  the  text  on  the  transparent  encasement  thrice,  making  sure  he  has  the  right  contraption.    satisfied,  kuno  drops  the  miniature  cutters  in  his  basket,  along  with  the  other  tools  necessary  to  keep  his  fingernails  tidy.    he  turns  to  move  towards  the  other  section  of  the  aisle  and  falls  right  into  the  woman’s  trapping  gaze.    kuno  waits  to  be  accused  of  some  offense  he  isn’t  aware  he’s  committing  and  straightens  his  posture.    instead,  when  she  finally  speaks,  she  leaves  him  even  more  bewildered.    his  eyes  narrow  as  he  scrutinises  the  bottles  in  her  hands  and  considers the  throughline  she’s  aiming  to  present.    he  wants  to  say  neither  but  he  doubts  she’ll  be  happy  with  that  answer.    “crimson,”  he  finally  says  and  looks  up  at  her,  expectantly,  waiting  for  her  to  tell  him  he’s  wrong.    

[pasdedeuxs]

a recommendation

who: anyone ! (open to assumed connections, he has lived in pinehaven his whole life and works at the library!!)

where: the book nook

lawrence was in here about once a day if not once every other day. he was what you would call "hyperlexic". the only way he found himself able to slow down his reading to stay on track with the multiple book clubs he hosted at the library was to constantly keep an influx of new books in his 'currently reading' pile. not to mention, the book store was where he enjoyed to spend his time anyways even when he didn't buy anything. it helped his so called "work-life balance" everyone at work insisted he should have. it wasn't that he was an introverted person and didn't love to go out to mcnasty's or a cafe like everyone else, it's just he far preferred to be in the presence of books when around others.

so here he was, wandering the isles of the book nook not really looking for anything in particular when he came across a potential new victim friend to speak to. "um, excuse me, not to be presumptious but are you looking for something in specific or could i give you a recommendation? not that what you're potentially looking for isn't a great read i'm sure but i have been dying to tell someone about this fabulous book i just finished."

@pinehavenstarters

[hotbobbys]

kuno  looks  up  from  the  line  up  of  books  on  the  lower  shelf,  his  brows  raised  and  mouth  twitched  into  a  frown.    a  second  passes  in  silence  —  kuno,  from  the  rapidness  and  enthusiasm  of  the  other’s  speech,  expected  to  hear  about  the  fabulous  book  before  an  answer  was  returned.    but  the  silence  persists, to his quiet dismay,  and  kuno  is  obliged  to  speak.    “sure.”    kuno  faces  lawrence—by  now  he  realises  who  he  was—with  his  hands  held  in  front  of  him,  one  holding  the  slim  titles  he’s  already  picked  out  between  his  fingers,  and  the  other  grasping  around  that  hand’s  wrist. he  holds  his  chin  slightly  up,  the  way  he  does  when  he  listens  to  a  sermon  or  a  speech,  or  his  neighbor,  an  old  man  who  used  to  be  an  electrician  and  enjoyed  telling  kuno  stories  from  his  heyday  and  impart  wisdom  onto  him.

[cryforlxve]

location: robert's apartment @hotbobbys

"we can never do that again. never ever, you twisted little fuck.." the panicked pitch that modulated her usually unfazed demeanor bounced wildly off the corridor. francesca searched for the lone shoe that evaded her the first time she had flopped out of his bed, a knot of guilt coiled up her in gut. it was just a kiss, or several kisses, and a light bit of groping but it wasn't anything less or more. a desperate call into the void with the wrong person. a body on body experience to drill out the loneliness that lined her porous heart.

"we shouldn't even been seen talking in public or even breathing the same air. it was the wine. all of the delicious and free italian wine. i should burn that little winery your weasely friend works at for a final measure."

[hotbobbys]

rob  doesn’t  follow  her  out  of  the  bedroom right away.    he  stays  lying  shirtless  on  his  bed  for  a  while,  letting  francesca’s  belated  guilt  play  in  the  background  while  he  confronts  his  own  conscience.    what  did  he  want  to  happen?    questions  like  that  do  not  normally  come  up  when  lust  takes  over.    he  wasn’t  debating  the  propriety  of  fucking  his  ex  wife’s  sister  when  he  relented  and  reciprocated  her  flirting.    he  only  thought  about  how  long  it’s  been  since  the  last  time  his  bed  was  warm. and  her  hair  cascaded  down  her  back  like  a  carpet  of  flames.    and the wine snaked down his throat like a trail of fire. the heat was nice and difficult to resist. so he did not. rob  finally sits  up and  swings  his  legs  off  of  the  bed. he  collects  his  shirt,  which  francesca,  moments  before,  eagerly fingered  off  of  his  torso,  from  where  it’s  splayed  on  the  floor. he  puts  it  on as  he  walks  into  the  amber  light  spilling from expensive lamps strategically placed around house. he  finds  francesca digging around the  place  for  god  knows  what.   

“relax, nothing  happened,” he elects to tell her, if only to help subdue her panic. he knows there's enough evidence against them for a guilty verdict. and he  doesn’t  point  out  to  her  that  she  flirted  with  him  first.    he  expects  another  verbal  thrashing  will come his way if  he  dares  suggest  it. rob  initially thought  she  only did it to  provoke  him  and  took  it  as  a  joke.    he  didn’t  expect it would escalate to this.    “hey,”  he  stops  by  the  threshold  between  the  hallway  and  the  kitchen,  “don’t  tell  bea.    if  you  need  absolution,  confess  to  a  priest  or  something.    but,”  he  pauses  and  hesitates  because  he  knows  how  it sounds:  scummy.    not unlike everything else that transpired tonight. go big or go home. “this  is  the  last  thing  she  needs  to  be  bothered  by.    besides,  nothing  happened.    nothing  will.    wait  here.”    he  disappears  into  the  kitchen  and  comes  back  with  a  glass  of  ice  cold  water.    “here.”    he  hands  it  to  francesca.    “try  to  calm down  and  i’ll  call  you  a  ride  home.    you’re  staying  with  bea,  right?”

[liloubaudelaire]

⸻ The Frenchwoman was at an event in which she worked that night, performing at a very private party. After finishing her gig, she had the last one in this bar, the manager talked to her, but the style he wanted her to do did not fit the night's atmosphere. Who is she to complain? It sucks being an artist. When she finished performing some pop, rock, indie, and classical music like Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, Lana del Rey, Lady Gaga, among others, she gingerly put her guitar in its bag, packing up the cords and microphone.

Who would guess? An introverted transform when on stage, but is completely introverted when the lights are off. Then she put her bag on her shoulder and went to have a drink while she waited for her payment to call off a day. The bartender gave her vodka, one of her weakest poisons, and then... ❛ I will not take too long, in case you're waiting for someone. ❜ She says softly to the person next to her. The bar was relatively packed while she waited, perched on the stool.

@pinehavenstarters

𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: any bar, late at night.

𝒄𝒂𝒑 𝟑 ( 𝟎 / 𝟎 )

[hotbobbys]

she’s  been  swiping  left  on  her  phone,  like  an  old  lady  with  the  slot  machines,  for  thirty  minutes.    lila  figures  she  might  have  to  swipe  for  centuries—and  burn  all  her  money  on  a  premium  subscription—before  she  hits  the  jackpot.    or  hitting  the  jackpot  is  a  scam  and  every  happy  couple  on  the  internet  saying  they  met  on  a  dating  app  is  laughing,  after  the  video  cuts,  at  all  the  gullible  ones  like  her  who  believe  in  love  at  first  prompt.    she’s  grateful  for  the  reason  to  lift  her  eyes  from  the  glaring  blue  light and the online dating lottery. “no,  you’re  fine,”  she  answers,  “stay  for  as  long  as  you  like,”  and  means  it.    her  gaze  then darts  around  to  search  for  her  friend,  who  lila  came  to  the  bar  with,  and  finds  her  leaning  against  a  wall,  her  waist  being  caressed  by  the  man  she’s  been  texting  with  for  weeks  now.    lila  should’ve  known  her  friend  was  plotting  when  she  practically  begged  lila  to  come.    lila  turns  her  attention  back  to  the  woman  beside  her  and  realises  who  she  is, seeing the guitar bag slung on her shoulder.    “i  loved  your  set,”  she  says  earnestly.    “your  rendition  of  bad  romance  is  lowkey  now  one  of  my  favourites.”

[moonhxven]

open to anyone, @pinehavenstarters Location: Centennial Park

Ari was a brand new woman. She was out and about, she was being pleasant, she was exercising. Only a person who was completely and totally fine could do all of those things. She certainly wasn't exercising pleasantly outside because her dad had said she'd "melt into her mattress" and they'd have to "call the fire department to come yank her out" wink wink. No, Ariel wanted to be at the park in the middle of summer jogging, really.

She actually had been fine with it up until she looked over her shoulder to check her progress and realized she hadn't gone that far. Jesus Christ, running was a form of torture. Veering off the path, Ari dramatically collapsed to the ground and rolled over onto her back with her arms and legs splayed out. Whoever said exercising made you feel good was a sadist. She had her eyes closed, deciding that being outside in general had to count for something, when a shadow passed over her. "I'm not dead," Ariel said, her eyes still closed. "Just bad at running." She opened one eye and used a hand to shield her face from the sun, trying to catch a glimpse of who was standing over her. "Do you happen to know how long it takes for the endorphins to release and make the whole running thing worth while?"

[hotbobbys]

paul’s  tongue  rolls  back  into  his  mouth.    he  sits  on  the  grass,  where  he  was  standing  by  her  face,  and  prepares  to  impart  wisdom  he’s  learned  from  the years  he’s  spent  walking  and  running  in  centennial  park  with  a  whine.    the  long-haired  dachshund  answers  her  in  three  loud  barks  and  a  whimpering  that  lila  guesses  is  meant  to  be  encouraging.    he  finishes  off  his  speech  by  nudging  his  nose  against  ari’s  cheek.    “i  think  he’s  telling  you  to  get  up  and  try  again,”  lila  translates.    “personally,  i’ve  never  found  the  answer  to  that.    except  that  one  time  i  slapped  the shit out of my ex-boyfriend  and  broke  his  windshield  with  a  golf  club  and  sprinted  for  miles.    that  was  the  most,  and  only,  satisfying  run  of  my  life.”    lila  raises  her  shoulders  in  a  shrug  and  paul  admonishes  her  with  a  bark.    “he  doesn’t  like  pessimism.    but  have  you  ever  tried  spite  as  motivation?”    she  surrenders  paul’s  leash  from  her  right  to  her  left  hand,  and  offers  it  towards  ari  to  help  her  sit  or  stand  up.    the  people  running  past  begrudgingly  curve  their  path  to  avoid  them,  some  huffing  passive  aggressively  as  they  speed  by,  working  against  the  theory  that  exercise  gives  you  endorphins  and  endorphins  make  you  happy. “temporarily. you  know,  until  the  endorphins  actually  kick  in.”

[kekoa-reyna]

"Gotta reach the whole town," Kekoa said, smiling wide. Their shows didn't discriminate on age (unless, of course, someone was under 21) so they had to reach the people not on social media. "Hell yeah, I'm the drummer!" Kick put the flyers under his arm and stuck out his hand. "Kekoa, you can call me Kick if you want." Kekoa held a flyer out to someone else passing by. "We're pretty fucking good... I guess you gotta come and see for yourself, though."

[hotbobbys]

she lets her arm fall to her side, the flyer waving in the air as it meets resistance. “ why, of course. kick the drummer. was that destiny or did you rebrand to fit the whole image ? ” she gives him her hand, partly — fingers slotted into his palm, thumb pressed against the back of his hand, and shakes it like one would a bell. “ no, i think i’ve heard you play before… ” she trails off, pretending to retrieve a memory of the band from the back of her mind. but she’s barely been in mcnasty’s, stuck in the hospital most of the time for the past four years of her residency. the rare times she ever was in the bar, she was likely more eager to find a good cocktail than to listen to whatever was playing in the background. “ is there something special happening or do you just advertise all the time? ” she lifts the flyer back into view and, this time, reads the words. she doubts they'll ever be without an audience in the only decent bar this part of washington.

[cryforlxve]

francesca's gaze lingered on the small wedge of visibility into the kitchen as the heavy black doors slowly swung to a close. a soft, mischievous smile furled up on her pout lips. "oh my love, you haven't laid eyes on the elusive creature in the back? blonde curls, stamped with tattoos, and a look of pure toiling mystery. you'd want a bite too.." she paused with a brief, shallow inhale. "..but you're right. we're in pinehaven on a life saving mission for great success and the safe return of a woman's mojo. the woman being tris but that doesn't mean we can't play the field without strings." with a soft click of her tongue, she had agreed silently. "rocky does have one set of buns on him but we're cute and demure--so we won't lust openly. although, it's a race babe. whoever gets him to bed faster wins all the bragging rights. do you think the carpet matches the beard or he's a bald eagle in the downstairs department?"

[hotbobbys]

francesca’s petition earns an inelegant snort from sylvie. “ you’re a lost cause. ” her apparent disapproval does not stop her from following her friend’s gaze and catching a suggestion of the man — maybe blond, definitely tattooed, surely miserable if he’s spending all day under that depressing lighting — as the doors swing back and forth, again and again until the intimation of a delicacy one needs to take a bite of completely disappears behind it. “ you know that sounds more like the bitter aftertaste of cigarettes and post-nut regret. ” she's been there, sort of. actors in la who say they're next james dean but can't even name a single one of his movies that isn't rebel without a cause. guys in bands that are more or less a derivative of the strokes and manage to sound worse. now sylvie’s fully laughing: “ sure, i’m in. but first tell me why with rocky, we’re being demure. with mr. mysterious, the rules don’t apply ? ” sylvie’s eyes narrow on francesca. “ there’s something you’re not telling me. you’ve fucked him, haven’t you ? ”

[kekoa-reyna]

Open to anyone! Feel free to assume a prior connection

A stack of flyers in hand, Kick headed into town to make sure every single resident of Pinehaven knew Afterglow had a show coming up. They'd played McNasty's plenty of nights, enough that everyone of age had probably seen them already, but Kekoa still acted like it was their first show ever. He boarded down the street, holding out a flyer for anyone willing to take one. When one fluttered to the ground instead of making it safely into someones hand, Kick skidded to a stop and scooped it up. "Hey, you've got to come... it's going to be killer." He gave them a cheeky grin, waggling his brows as he offered them a flyer.

[hotbobbys]

four  years  and  pinehaven  hasn’t  ceased  surprising  her.    a  small  gasp  follows  the  look  of  surprise  on  her  face,  eyes  and  mouth  forming  an  oh  !    “  a  flyer.    vintage.  ”    she  takes  the  paper  between  her  thumb  and  index  and  holds  it  up  in  front  of  her.    “  killer  is  an  awful  lot  to  promise,  ”  she  remarks  and  tilts  her  head  to  the  side,  peeking  through  the  flyer  to  watch  the  other  with  blue,  curious  eyes.    “  is  this  your  band  ?  ”

[cryforlxve]

the warm fluorescent glow illuminated the vintage glassware that covered the bar top. a sea of brightly colored curves accompanied by the fluttery napkins that draped the plates. a soft touch of "elegance" to elevate the homey feeling of lou lous. franscesca fiddled with the corner of the menu, teasing a crease into the page before finally lifting her gaze. "everything on this menu screams horrible heart health..." her brow lifted with a soft twist of mirth dotting her lips. "..i'll take the pie and whoever made it."

[hotbobbys]

sylvie’s  brows  rise  at  the  special  request.    “  and  whoever  made  it ?  ”  she  repeats  and  takes  her  eyes  off  of  the  screen  of  her  phone  to  look  at  her  friend  sideways.    “  must  i  remind  you  we’re  pinehaven?    be  careful  what  you  wish  for.  ”    and  then,  even  more  teasingly:    “  if  you  meant  rocky,  then  i  completely  understand.    but  you  might  want  to  be  more  specific.  ”    

[ormundshightower]

Sarah Pidgeon as Carolyn Bessette Love Story S01E01 "Pilot" (2026)

[cryforlxve]

"people with hearts have to worry about it. it's a good thing, we're barren here, amore" she purred with a kink in her grin. "besides, i love empty calories but i hate empty beds. di cosa hai fame?."

[hotbobbys]

“  that’s  surprisingly  considerate  for  someone  who’s  ... without one.  ”    he  gives  her  a  look—  which  he  probably  shouldn’t  have.    “  that  doesn’t  require  a  heart  now,  does  it?  ”    he  frowns.    “  the  what?    sorry,  they  don’t  make  anything  that’s  not  on  the  menu,  ”    he  replies,  teasing.

[angosturaa]

open starter: @pinehavenstarters

location: wildflower thread

kian held up a dress shirt next to the customer he was helping, biting his bottom lip in thought. “hmm, i like this color on you, but i feel like we would need more pizzazz.” his eyebrows furrowed as he thought of something to put the outfit together, remembering they had some coats and accessories on sale. he noticed the customer pulling away from him and becoming disinterested and he panicked. “i'm not saying you don't already look great with just the shirt, i want you to stand out even more.” he lifted his hands up in surrender, stepping out of their space. “i just want you to leave with something you feel great in.” his lips curled into a half smile, his heart racing in his chest. nothing scared him more than a pissed off customer.

[hotbobbys]

“  simple  is  fine.  ”    he  does  not  want  to  offend  them  but  kuno  cannot  picture  himself  wearing anything with  pizzazz.    “  i’ll  be  wearing  it  to  a  wedding.  ”    in fact, he  wasn't planning on taking a trip to the boutique,  a  place  he’s  barely  stepped  into  since  arriving  in  pinehaven,  until  he  realised  the  closest  thing  he  had  to  an  appropriate  wedding  guest  attire  was  the  suit  he  wore  to  his  father’s  funeral.    “  my  friend’s  daughter.    she’s  having  it  in  her  parents’  backyard.    it’s  meant  to  be  a  simple  affair.    i’m  told.  ”

[cryforlxve]

the warm fluorescent glow illuminated the vintage glassware that covered the bar top. a sea of brightly colored curves accompanied by the fluttery napkins that draped the plates. a soft touch of "elegance" to elevate the homey feeling of lou lous. franscesca fiddled with the corner of the menu, teasing a crease into the page before finally lifting her gaze. "everything on this menu screams horrible heart health..." her brow lifted with a soft twist of mirth dotting her lips. "..i'll take the pie and whoever made it."

[hotbobbys]

“ i don’t think you need to worry about that. ”

[angosturaa]

closed starter: @hotbobbys

zaire stopped by loulou's diner for a quick meal before grading assignments. he noticed tonight was rather busier than usual, noticing ina working tirelessly by herself. his natural instinct was to approach her and help her despite it not being his place. the assignments could wait until later that night. he stood up from the stool, walking towards her but keeping a safe distance between the both of them. "hey. i noticed it's been really busy here. do you mind if i help a little? free of charge of course." he flashed a welcoming smile, setting down his tote bag on the counter.

[hotbobbys]

it  takes  an  embarrassingly  long  second  for  the  words  to  make  sense  in  ina’s  head.    she  was  expecting  more  along  the  lines  of  can  i  have  another  coffee, ins?  or  is  my  order  ready?    i’ve  been  waiting  for  twenty  minutes,  ina.    how  long  does  a  burger  take  to  fry,  i  mean,  really?    to  help  them  isn’t  a  request  she  gets  a  lot.    or  ever.    “  oh.    uhhh.    no.    no,  we’re  fine.    it’s  fine,  seriously. ha-ha.  ”    she  waves  a  hand,  gesturing  for  him  to  go  about  his  day  and  ignore  her,  but  the  motion  destabilises  the  tray  of  plates  balanced  on  the  other  and  the  neat  stack  almost  topples  and  crashes  on  the  tiled  floor.    “  oh  fuck,  oh  shit.  ”

[idleminds]

Perfect Days (2023) dir. Wim Wenders

[btwnthepines]

open starter from: temperance

@pinehavenstarters

the heavy thud of leather and buckram against the industrial carpet was muffled. a series of dull, rhythmic mumps that sounded, to temperance’s ears, like a muted tragedy. she let out a soft, melodic, oh my, her voice a flutter of velvet in the hushed air of the stacks. she quickly glided around the corner of the aisle, footsteps silent against the weave. and the scene was exactly as she’d feared; the reshelving cart, left momentarily unattended in the transition between goethe and grass, had been broadsided. a mountain of german philosophy and folklore now lay scattered across the floor.

before the culprit could even stammer an apology, temperance was already crouching, the hem of her skirt pooling around her ankles. her movements were fluid and entirely devoid of judgment. "don't you even worry about it, dear," she reassured, her voice always carrying a specific, grounded warmth. the kind that suggested she’d seen far worse disasters and found them all equally forgivable.

she began to gather the volumes, her fingers trailing over the spines with a tactile reverence. "german literature is a sturdy sort. they won’t damage easily," she quipped, stacking a thick copy of the sorrows of young werther atop a collection of grimm’s. "it’s all those strong conjugations, i gather. they give the paper a certain…structural integrity." she stood slowly, cradling the rescued stack against her chest as if they were wounded birds. her head tilted slightly to the side, her gaze lingering on the stranger with a keen, intuitive focus. as if she weren't just looking at a patron, but reading the subtext of their day. "now," she said, her voice dropping to a inviting hum. "was there something specific I could help you find, or did these books simply jump off the cart to catch your attention?"

[hotbobbys]

no  apology  escapes  his  mouth.    his  lips  are  too  firmly  pressed  together  to  let  words  come  out.    in  lieu  of  it,  kuno  makes  himself  useful  by  restoring  the  cart  in  an  upright  position  and  picking  up  the  books  not  yet  cradled  in  her  arms.     “  a  relief,  ”    he  says  soullessly,  although  he’s  thoroughly  amused  by  the  remark.    thinks  of  his  mother,  even—  thinks  she  would’ve  laughed  at  it  had  she  lived  to  hear  it  recounted  to  her.    he  shakes  his  head  in  response  to  the  question,  busy  attempting  to  arrange  the  books  in  his  hands  before  replacing  them  on  the  shelf.    “  no,  ”    he  manages,  after  the  deed  is  done.    he  hadn’t  been  looking  through  the  books  on  the  shelf  when  he  accidentally  collided  into  it. “  i  would—  ”    he  reconsiders  and  plucks  the  thin  book  tucked  beneath  his  arm  before  presenting  it  to  her.    “  —appreciate  it  if  you  happen  to  have  any  more  from  this  author.    zweig.    i  don’t  mind  putting  my  name  on  a  waitlist,  if  that  happens  to  be  the  case.  ”