Where: Denver Public Library Who: Open @chqstarter
It was common to see Asa Holland skulking through the endless shelves with a handful of books in his tattooed arms, eyes darting back and forth from title to title as he put things away. Everything was methodical, cyclical- the books came back, they went back into their spots. They were taken out, and they came back. Usually. But there were checks and balances for it all, numbers and inventory. Things that gave the Irishman comfort- often moreso than the smiling faces of children hurrying in for storytime, or the book-club goers waving idly as they headed in with coffee-cups and matching dust jackets.
Regardless of how the public thought of him, he ran the library, and he did so very well. If anyone spared him more than a passing thought, they'd maybe think the story strange, that the disquieting older man had popped into Denver of all places and ended up as head of the massive library. Especially when his social skills were... lacking.
Today had back-to-back events and the poor man looked a bit run down as the day turned to early evening. He was leaned onto his forearms behind the desk, dark eyes watching a stack of books he really didn't want to finish putting away. He realized a bit late that someone was standing nearby. "Just gettin' my wind, apologies." His voice was reedy as he cleared his throat. Perpetually messy hair brushed back as he sighed, eyes a bit buggy. "I just don't understand why the book club, the resume seminar, and the young authors event had to meet on the same day. Seems excessive. Or maybe I'm just gettin' slow in my old age."