Quote:
Originally Posted by
Crush!Crush!Crush! 
Books. Smelled. Bad.
Wandering through the sections that meant totally nothing to him, Ashton began to wonder that his infatuation with Professor Morgan had brought him nothing but work. Serious. Every time he went to talk to her, she just suggested that he picked up another book. Wandering down so that he reached the Care of Magical Creatures section, he sighed. Things weren't going to well for him in the world of girls. Especially after... THAT situation. He hadn't seen his Flirt-buddy in ages, so he could of sworn that he was getting out of practice.
Glancing up at one of the books that were halfway pulled out, he sighed again. Libraries really weren't his thing. After all, coming all the way from a huge city such as New York, cars were more his thing. Yes, he did fit the English stereotype of a New Yorker very well, but he didn't care overly. Pulling the book out, he flicked through it without really taking any of the words in, glared at it, and put it back again...
Wrong book.
Lucille wondered among the rows of heavy books, breathing deepyly. She loved everything about this place, the smell, the musty pages, the dusty collumns. The pages and pages of undeciphored knowlage laying hidden behind the shelves.
This was where Lucille's serious side came out. Ok, so she could cause trouble and be irrashional and people often disliked these traits. She was strong and silly, but as soon as she hit the library, this changed.
She turned corners, looking through the rows of books and sighed. Warren was certaintly getting a lot of attention lately.
She didn't like that. She didn't like that at all.
Not that she was the jelous type. She jsut didn't like it.
She turned a corner and browsed some more. She walked along the row, trailing a finger over the huge volumes, creating a clean strip across the dusty spines. She looked up, and saw someone. He looked .... like he wasn't having fun. In fact he was...he was...WAS HE GLARING AT A BOOK!?
"What did the book do to you?" asked Lucille, the words coming out more rudely than she'd intended.