2019-12-29 - Shelf Copies

It's that time between Christmas and New Year's when things have settled back into a brief bit of semi-normalcy. The shop is relatively quiet and so Elias is wandering around the shelves, finding books that had been put back in weird places and returning them to where they belong, but otherwise just drifting aimlessly from hither to yon, every so often glancing up when the small bell chimes above the door to announce a new arrival. It's late afternoon, wearing on toward evening, and the sky is a kind of drab grey.

And chime that little bell does, giving an exuberant little ring as Cristobal steps in off the street. He has a paperback book in his hand, the volume curled in the grip of one hand. The spine is already broken, the cover warped and crinkled and pages have been dog eared. Looking around, he decides his best course of action is to find someone who can help him in the stacks instead of wandering around trying to find what he's looking for himself.

Which is probably when Elias comes around the corner and sees first the book and its condition, and then the man holding it. There's a momentary pause before he recognizes the man, but when he does, he asks, "Looking to replace an old favorite that's falling apart? Or seeking a sequel?" He's dressed in a pair of black jeans and combat boots laced up his calves, and a dark blue sweater with white flecks in it that is a little loose on his lean frame. He leans up against the set of shelves that he stands next to.

Cristobal just sort of stops short as he sees Elias coming around the corner. Doesn't particularly move when he's offered that question. He just sort of looks at Elias for a long moment before muttering, "Ay dios mio, of course it's you." Because this? This is Cris' luck. But to his credit he doesn't just turn around and take his business elsewhere, instead he holds up The Sancutary of Naot, one of Dante's books. "The rest of the trilogy. Actually, anything you have by him." The bouncer tosses the copy onto counter, adding a little tightly. "Por favor."

Elias raises both eyebrows a little bit and says, "Well, I own the shop so..." He gives a slight shrug of his shoulders, and then glances at the book, giving a nod. "Over this way," he says as he nods in the direction of the Horror section. He walks to the precise area where Dante's books are located and gestures to the shelf. "The rest of the series is here, and then the others are here as well. I think we have copies of everything at the moment, but if there's anything that you want that you can't find, let me know. We can always order anything that isn't present." He then steps out of the way so that Cristobal can look and choose for himself.

Cristobal dutifully follows, a man on a mission. He stands in the section, taking in the wide breadth of authors and titles and the section with Taylor's name on it. "Jesus H. Christ, how many has he written?" Despite the blasphemous words, he quickly crosses himself and kisses his thumb as if out of ingrained habit. "Were you familiar with his work before you met him?"

"At least ten that I can think of off the top of my head," Elias says when Cristobal makes that exclamation, folding his arms comfortably in front of him. "The two trilogies, and then at least four other stand-alone novels. Saltash Manor was his first." He gestures to that individual volume, pointing it out. He nods in answer to the question, "We're both writers, though I've only dabbled in Horror in short stories, my books tend toward the urban fantasy. I knew of him professionally before we met here."

"Ten." Cristobal repeats, unable to keep a mild hint of admiration out of his normally rather flippant voice. "Yup. All of them. Duplicates of each if you have them, if not, I'd like to put them on order so I can have a shelf copy. I'm a little hard on books." As judging by the one he left on the counter that he received only recently. He reaches to tilt one out with a finger as he reads the spine, a glance stolen aside to Elias as he says they had a professional connection before. "He and I don't have shit in common."

"No problem," Elias says as he looks at the shelves and begins picking out two of each item. There's only a couple of them that only have one copy on the shelves, but he carries those over to the front counter and sets them to one side, asking one of the clerks there, "Can you go check and see if we have these two in the back? If not, we're going to need to order them. Thanks." She nods and says, "Sure, Mr. Weber." Then he turns back to Cristobal while that is being taken care of. "Sometimes that keeps things interesting," he comments regarding whether Cris and Dante have anything in common.

"Or sometimes it's a death knoll. And by the way I had to look up that word, knoll. So that should tell you something right there." In large groups, Cris is all bravado, but one on one, there tends to be just as much self deprecating humor as there is his own particular brand of gutter flavored machismo. Cris doesn't seem interested in any other authors at the moment, and so he starts straying back out of that particular stack. "So looks like Mister Fancy Pants is all yours."

Elias doesn't point out to Cristobal that the word is knell rather than knoll. Instead, he says, "It can be, sometimes," clearly reflecting on some of his own personal experience, there, since there's a somewhat rueful turn to his expression. He wanders back toward the counter and turns his back to it, then pushes himself up onto it to sit on the surface while the clerk is busy in the back. One brow ticks up and he says, "I thought the two of you had a thing. I didn't ask him not to when he told me."

See! Shows what he knows. Clearly the man is more street smarts than book smarts, especially as it seems when he reads he's clearly doing battle with the words if the state of the book is any indication: it's full contact. He pulls the battered book back off the counter, worrying it between his hands by bending and flexing it. No telling what damage he would do if it were hard cover. "Yeah well. Looks like I robbed you of the chance. I really fucked Fido on this one." Or screwed the pooch, whatever.

"I wasn't going to, either," Elias says as he studies Cristobal standing there worrying the book between his hands, a slight furrow touching his brow. "What happened?" The question is offered somewhat.. gently, as though he doesn't hold any expectations over Cristobal wanting to talk about it, but the offer seems to be there. It's a force of will not to smile just a little at the turn of phrase, but he manages it. He seems to be considering something, but for the moment he doesn't say anything more.

Cristobal makes a dismissive gesture with a flap of the book, "Doesn't matter, but do him a solid and check in on him, yeah?" He doesn't want to imply it will be a favor for him, or that he cares, but clearly he cares because he's asking. And it sure technically would be a bit of a favor for Cris as well.

Elias nods his head and says, "Of course. I'll check in on him." He gets the impression that it does, in fact, matter, but he's only met the man once, and he doesn't seem inclined to push him. "Sorry for the other night, about waking you and all. He was really very concerned that something might have happened to you." The clerk returns with a couple more volumes, completing the double set, and begins to ring and bag everything up.

Cristobal fishes into his pocket with the noise from the register brings him back to the reason he's here in the first place. He's pulling out a fold of cash, and thumbing off two one hundred dollar bills as he waits for the total. The gritting of his teeth causes the muscle in his jaw to dance and pop. "Yeah, well. You're both better men than I am." Then he looks to the clerk expectantly.

The clerk gives him the total for the books and takes the cash, doling out his change, and the receipt, and handing the bag across the counter with a warm smile before she heads off to take care of another customer. Elias is quiet while the transaction takes place, letting her do her job, and Cristobal make the purchase that he came to make. He shrugs his shoulders slightly, neither arguing that claim or agreeing with it, a kind of noncommittal gesture. The point of mentioning it was mostly just to let Cristobal know that Dante cared. "It was good to see you again," he settles on, as he slides down off the counter, then, and begins to head back toward the back of the shop.

"Same." Cris bids Elias quickly enough, somehow escaping the store with a heavy bag of paperbacks and without having inflicted too much torture on Elias. Or himself for that matter.