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[ Midnight hums. It's always flattering to know that someone as orderly as Miss Angela notices such small things like his charms. ]

Sure. It's how I made a living, after all.

[ But as for that question... Midnight touches his chin in deep thought. ]

I... can't say I could think of one. I'd say something to drink, but I wouldn't want to risk the books when I could just do the same at home. Perhaps... More comfortable places to sit? I know you never meant for the place to be a library, but there's something lovely about sitting among books while reading. It's very calming.

[ ... And since he won't be clear about the nature of the Library for at least another two weeks... ]

Are books the reason why you became a librarian?

( more comfortable places... she can do that. make some more room, get some... beanbags, even if she hadn't really liked them at don's party. that should work. blankets, for the colder months... )

They're part of it. ( while the methods of getting those books compared to earlier ones are way different— ) Books were my only companions in my solitude, you could say. I read a lot, learned a lot, and decided I wanted to experience those same things.

( ...there are just more steps between "deciding to experience those things" and "being able to leave to experience those things". )

I suppose I've become extremely fond of the written word in the interim. ( no supposing about it, she has— ) What sort of work do you do back in your world that makes you such a diligent soul in the store?

[ Sounds comfy. A lovely place to cuddle. Hey, Angela,

Midnight nods. He's not sure he relates completely, but the desire to read and learn and experience things... Those are all familiar. ]

No particular work made me like this. I'm currently a soldier, or at least I was a few months ago, but... Hmm. It really is more like there were things I wanted in life, so the work that I needed to do to get to what I wanted seemed light in comparison. And I always enjoyed learning and improving, so I suppose the work came naturally. I like doing things right.

[ That's... not the entire truth, but none of it is false, either. He's the sort to work hard and play hard. ]

Have you ever considered another life path? If not a librarian, where would you like to be?

( no cuddling allowed. )

...I don't know. I've never thought about it. ( she hardly ever thought about being a librarian—it just seemed like the natural progression of things once she erected hers. ) I don't mind what I'm doing now though—owning a bookstore. It's nice.

( quaint. familiar, but different. )

Have you ever been in love?

[ Okay, but consider a world WITH cuddles............... little spoon Angela is not an impossible concept here!

Having a bookstore would be nice... He asked mostly to confirm that she doesn't feel trapped doing the same things she did at her Library, but it seems like they're of like mind on this topic.

He snorts lightly, sighs, smiles in the dark. ]

Ah. Interesting question. This is specifically about being in love, isn't it? Take that as my question, if you like; I promise to answer either way, but I do like to be precise about my answers in this regard.

( Little spoon Angela....................... )

Yes, specifically about being in love. I'm aware it's possible for people to love others without being in love with them, though I've never experienced being anyone's object of affection either way.

( Platonicy, familial, romantic— none of that. It sounds a little sad now that she's said it aloud, but it... is what it is. No one's ever loved her. No one's ever been in love with her. It's fine. She's not bothered (she is kind of bothered). )

[ grumpy but warm....., ]

No? Well... That's a shame, unless you're the sort to do quite well on your own.

As for me...

[ He inhales, filling his lungs, then sighing it out. ]

I'd say, in a classic sense, no. In the sense that I believe most people feel it in a way that is passionate toward only one target of affection, in some sort of lifelong unwillingness to be without just this one person. The sort of feelings one reads about in romance.

[ Midnight shifts a little in the dark, thinking. ]

No. My love is a bit different. It certainly is strong, quite passionate. It's... difficult. But it's certainly not the same thing.

[ Difficult is a purposefully vague word. Hard to live with, hard to understand, hard to explain... It could be any of those things. Or maybe he just means he sees his own capacity to love as some sort of burden. Who knows, really? ]

I think I already do have my next question for you, but your turn is, technically, long overdue.

( perhaps he feels strongly for more than one person, then? she can't conceive of it--but then again, it's difficult to conceive of another one in the first place... )

What is your question? ( heh. ) You can take that as mine.

( sneakily getting her curiosity satisfied this way. )

[ Midnight throws his head back and laughs in the dark. Mwahaha. ]

Fair enough. Is being in love a state of emotion you'd like to try for yourself, or are you simply curious about the concept?

A little of both. I...

( angela trails off, lips pursing. is this something she can tell him, or is it something best kept to herself? there's no real harm to it aside from inviting uncomfortable questions about who and what she is or was, but if she can just navigate around that...

in the end, she continues, because this was supposed to be for them to get to know one another. )

I've been in love once, but it wasn't my own choice to be. How do I explain this simply... I once had memories that were not my own. ( she still does; she can't escape them yet, but with more time, perhaps they'd disappear. ) The original owner of those memories—let's call her C—was very fond of a man I ended up working with prior to her passing—let's call him A. No matter what I did, however, or how hard I worked, or how much like C I tried to be, I couldn't be her, and he resented me for it. Even though it was his fault I came out the way I did, it was his fault her memories were—

( —she cuts herself off, aware she'd begun speaking faster. even if her voice hadn't raised, even if her tone hadn't changed... her hand on his arm relaxes its tightened grip as she holds her breath, and exhales once the anger and hurt dissipates.

it really is difficult to explain without getting into things she doesn't want to tell someone so new to her life, though she's aware that she more or less did something similar to roland. still, those circumstances had been different. )

Never mind. Succinctly, I'd like to know what it's like to love and be loved in return... I highly doubt I'll find such an experience here or even back home, however, so I only have other peoples' stories to go off of.

... So, put simply, this person had an image of who he expected you to be, but despite your best efforts to live up to those expectations, the person you truly are showed through.

[ It's a truly impossible standard. Midnight, in the dark, is awfully quiet. ]

To be loved and loved in return are endeavors both far more possible and far more difficult than one might expect. I'm sorry that your love went unrequited. You, as you are, are not worth losing for the sake of a ghost, a memory. I hope you know that.

( it's more complicated than that—

isn't it?

...it's nothing she could or wants to clarify, so she lets his words sit in the quiet, in the dark, measuring her own emotions out in teaspoons so she doesn't spill them. )

If it's a regret he would have had, he never lived to have it. He passed away ( ascended, lucky him ) before ever realizing I was fine just the way I was. The only people who reaped the consequences of what he'd done were me and...

( ...the other librarians. she shakes her head to herself, unseen, and sighs again. )

Some other unfortunate souls I ended up taking my resentment out on, let's say. I'm not a good person. ( a perfect AI and a garbage person. ) It's my turn to ask a question against, isn't it? Let's see...

( though the darkness is gradually getting brighter, their tunnel of love adventure soon to come to an end— she wonders if she could stall until they're out, then decides that's unfair. )

Do you have a favorite flower, and if so, what is it?

[ Midnight hums, pats her arm in reply. He would argue her point, but it's not the sort of thing he can argue without certain caveats in place. Broad statements like "you aren't the only sinner here"... Well, she never asked, did she? ]

Wisteria.

[ He pauses, blinks... laughs a little. ]

Mm. Wisteria. It grew in the yard when I was a child. They were lovely in full bloom... Lovely and a little sad, somehow.

What a specific question. Do flowers interest you as well?

( wisteria— she tries to remember which one that is, thinks it must be the one that blooms around alriune and shades the abnormality's face. it is lovely in full bloom, and a little sad, he's right. "with unwithering flowers began my magnificent descent into despair"... )

Not at all. I wouldn't even say that I have a favorite myself. Not much greenery grows around my library. ( netzach's floor is the greeniest, in the most literal since, but flowers are a different matter. ) However, it's an easy question most people have an answer to—though wisteria isn't one I was expecting.

( difficult to implement around the bookstore, too. not that she was thinking of that or anything, of course. )

You were expecting roses, then?

[ Midnight has that and... so very many more questions. He's very inquisitive! Curious! Has a warm interest in others! In a lot of ways, he's a really good escort. ]

I was.

( no sense in beating around the bush there. )

They're beautiful, a traditional symbol for love, and... Though it's only recently I've learned how many shades you have, Midnight, their multitude of color possibilities suits you as well. They're an easy thing to associate with you.

[ Midnight's single eyebrow lifts higher and higher under each association, and by the time she gets to shades, he's looking down at her in the dark, laughing a little under his breath. ]

My, my... Well, I do appreciate your discerning eye. I don't consider myself all that complex, but I do like to think I have my own facets. That which shines under many sorts of light.

[ Which is just a fancy way of him wondering what, exactly, he's said or done to be any more complex than a voracious flirt who just happens to have some good work ethic. (Not that he's actually asking for answers. He's perfectly happy with making up his own.) ]

( This entire conversation in the tunnel of love has been extremely enlightening, actually—

just as the end of the tunnel, too, is enlightening. Angela raises a hand against the sudden brightness, squinting, then slowly pulls her arm from her company's. )

...I've watched many people for many years, so you can trust my discerning eye. ( haha. ) Thank you for the company, Midnight. Though I was a little hesitant at first.

( and she still kind of is You Horrendous Flirt. )

You're quite welcome, Miss Angela. I daresay that you've been a bright point of light in this particular darkness.

[ He releases her arm, blinks in the now overpowering daylight, and turns to her, fairground music floating around them. He looks quite pleased, although he's honestly always a little too pleased with himself. ]

Once you conquer that hesitation well enough to appreciate my charms fully, I'll be around to whisk you away. In the meantime... To have earned such praise is an honor. I do appreciate your time, Miss Angela.

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