elliotmurdockâ:
âI will, Iâm sure heâll appreciate it.â Elliot told him, returning his smile. âI know, Iâm just praying I donât catch it - after the fire at LâEnfer, I canât afford to get sick.â He wasnât in the hospital that long, but it had taken a toll on him - it took weeks before he truly felt back to normal.
The brunet watched curiously as the professor began to open up his briefcase, only to reveal copies of his books inside. âAlright - I can arrange a seating area then, for those who come to listen. I started setting up the table this morning. Itâs just in the back, if you want to see.â
His gaze moved to where he was motioning to, past a few of the shelves, to where heâd began setting up a table in a more open area of the shop - but when he looked back, the other was holding his book out to him. âOh.â He took it, and gave him a smile, nodding. He had a thank you in his head already, truly appreciative of it, even if he was rather dense when it came to visual art (although, perhaps reading about it may improve that situation.)
He was ready to thank him, when he suddenly heard several books toppling to the floor. He groaned, setting Giovanniâs book down behind the counter quickly. âIâm just going to pick them up, so theyâre not in the way - I can just sort them later. Iâm terribly sorry for this.â
The brunet moved to do just as he said, before poking his head out around the corner, books piled up on one of his hands as he continued adding to it. âIs there anything particular you want arranged for the reading? Tea, snacks, postersâŠ?â
Giovanni moved to action as quickly as the bookseller did. âPlease, let me help,â he said, not waiting to be affirmed or refused. He crouched down to pick up a newly damaged copy of the newest Fitzgerald, the blue face of mourning staring back at him over the city lights. Giovanni tucked the book under his arm as he moved to help clean the mess. âSome children have such little respect for things that donât belong to them,â he said gathering as many fallen books as he could in his arms.
He deposited his stack on the shelf, looking at the small man running himself ragged. âIâm sorry to hear about the fire,â he said quietly. âOne of my dear friends was in attendance as well. What a tragic way to lay a loved one to rest. Were you close?â he asked, before immediately shaking his head and dismissing his own question. âIâm sorry, thatâs inappropriate of me. I hope your health is returning.â
He placed the copy of The Great Gatsby on the counter beside his own possessions. âTea and snacks would be ideal. It might be the only thing people come from,â he said, attempting a half-hearted laugh at his own self-depreciation.














