>>"Why does everyone--!? No!"

Booker held his hands up defensively, a clear sign that he wasn’t going to push the point. Clearly the young woman was having a bad day and the last thing he wanted to do was antagonize her any further. The world was clearly being rough enough to her so there was no need to pile on. Still, he did have to wonder how she could think that wasn’t the assumption? Dressed as she was, in this cold weather, not even carrying cleaning supplies, it was kind of easy to assume that she was going to be up to no good. But, again, he wasn’t going to be that person.

Tea. He would offer her tea. He would be the tea-offering person. Maybe that was better than a judgmental jerk? He hoped? Please?

>>"I'm on the wrong side of the rip so I was trying to make some cash under the table. I'm damn lucky I haven't been picked up by human traffickers."

”I have to agree,” he said in response. ”Can’t tell you how many I passed by just on the way home from the bakery.”

He was teasing, of course, a point that was accentuated by the small, sly smile on his lips, the kind that his sister loved to slap off of him when he was being sassy to her. Again, now wasn’t really the best of times to tease little Miss Non-Hooker, but it was difficult to shut off certain parts of his personality.

Quietly he mulled the thoughts in his head, taking in her story and committing it to memory. She was from the other side of the rip and she was just trying to make some cash to get by. It seemed pretty standard from what he had been hearing on the news. Though he had to wonder something…

”If you’re having that hard a time, why don’t you just go back?” He wasn’t attempting to sound rude, and the clearly confused look on his face showed his genuine thought process. However, he instantly thought better of that and, before she answer, again held up his hands. ”Wait. None of my business. Sorry. I really don’t mean to pry.”

He was supposed to be getting tea, right? Headed for the kitchen, inquiring as to what she wanted and clarified that she wouldn’t be stealing anything of his.

>>"Coffee. I'll only steal your stuff if you made a bad pot."

”Well, seeing as that is the case, just take the things on that side of the room,” he gestured to the left. ”Those are my sister’s things.”

Booker moved into the kitchen, opening a cabinet to bring down the coffee grinder, a package of whole coffee beans, as well as some general spices he had been considering to use. He had promised Nessa he would replenish their coffee stores so that she could just hope in and make a cup during her intensive recording sessions this week so he needed to make the time the make a good sized batch. But just as the man was opening the package, he looked up to see the blonde milling nearby.

>>"I'm a coffee snob, you see...Let me learn you a thing or two."

He smirked. A glance at the open container of beans, the spices, and the grinder, he nodded, took a step back and waved to them. ”By all means.” he said. Giving her plenty of space, he hopped onto the counter and took a seat on the other side of the kitchen to watch her work. ”My name’s Booker, by the way,” he explained. ”I figured you should at least be owed that after I rescued you and all.”

She was done being a soggy, kicked puppy. Bad things almost happened. They didn't. It was time to be something else. Confident, for starters.

Raine kicked off the one shoe before she got to the kitchen and set the blanket on the counter as she mosied close enough to snoop out whatever Mr. Neighbor was doing.

He hadn't even really gotten started and so it was a simple thing to back off. He seemed to know enough to let a woman do her thing when she was of a mind to get it done. "Looks like your sister already taught you some things about how to treat a lady." Emphasis on lady. Raine teased as she took stock of the beans. The expiration date was passed, but only just. She gave them a sniff: a medium-dark roast. She'd worked with worse.

"If you don't weep at my feet for the joy of flavor, I will have failed here." Exaggeration? Sure. But this was one thing Raine knew she could do, and do it well. She also got to poke around and see what kind of kitchen this guy kept. He was strong enough to actually help lift her in through the window. And he had a burr grinder? That was half way to marriage material right there.

"Booker? What kind of a name is Booker?" She went on tippy-toe and dug around, making herself at home in this stranger's kitchen as she looked for a digital, or even an analog, scale. Grr. She would just have to count the beans.

"I'm not telling you my name." She wrinkled her nose at him. "For your own safety. Wouldn't want you getting lumped in with the rabble." Not to mention the fact that she was actually a person of interest to the people who were running the other side of the rip...

Raine dug out a candy thermometer --That was better than no thermometer-- and set about putting a kettle on the stove to boil. The french press was already out. Clean-ish. She unscrewed the mesh filter and made sure nothing was sandwiched in there. A cloth went inside and then outside the press.

On a more serious note. "Thank you, Booker." She addressed the french press that she was cleaning rather than his face. It was easier. "I'm glad people like you are a part of this world."

>>"Looks like your sister already taught you some things about how to treat a lady."

Booker smirked at the comment as he stood back, allowing the blonde free reign of his kitchen. She was under the misconception that Nessa was the one who taught him manners when, in actuality, it was the other way around. He shook his head, chuckling as he sat on the edge of his counter, watching the blonde for a moment before he decided to respond.

”Not a bad guess,” he said with an impressed nod. However he then gestured with his hands, indicating that she would alter her previous sentence. ”But switch ‘you’ and ‘your sister’ and you’ll get an A plus for accuracy.”

Truth was that Booker was usually the more sensitive and well-behaved of the Bookman siblings. That wasn’t to say that Nessa was a complete slob or anything, but they both had their strengths and weaknesses. Booker was always the more open going of the two of them, and was the most respectful; Nessa, on the other hand, was the far braver one and the one others could count on keeping them grounded. Really, for brother and sister, they certainly had an excellent dynamic.

>>"If you don't weep at my feet for the joy of flavor, I will have failed here."

Booker blinked back into the present as he watched the blonde get to work. She quickly started to set up the device he had pulled out in order to make her absolutely amazing cup of coffee. It seemed that he was supposed to have something of a religious experience with it , or she would end up looking like a liar. He scoffed a little at that and sighed.

”Can’t have that, now can we?” he teased. Booker wasn’t all that obsessed over the caffeinated beverage but he couldn’t wait to see what this woman could come up with. As he was thinking this, he realized that it woud actually be much better to have a name to go with the face; so, he introduced himself.

>>"Booker? What kind of a name is Booker? I'm not telling you my name. For your own safety. Wouldn't want you getting lumped in with the rabble."

”It’s my kind of name,” he said with a slight shrug. He was a little disappointed not getting a name from her, but then again, he did understand. She was in a stranger’s home, already mistaken for a hooker twice, and lost one of her shoes. He guessed that would make him a bit suspicious too.

Booker said nothing, merely raising his hands, a sign that he was going to back off pushing the younger blonde for information. He didn’t want to pry.

>>"Thank you, Booker. I'm glad people like you are a part of this world."

He blinked a little at that moment of honesty. He couldn’t help but smile, nodding his head to the young woman, taking her gratitude with grace. After having such a rough day, he could only guess what she must be thinking and feeling, especially seeing as she was from another world. Happy to give her a moment, however brief, of peace, made the man thankful for the choices that made him the man he is.

”You’re very welcome,” he said earnestly. ’Sorry you’ve had it tough as of late.” He shrugged sheepishly. ”I honestly can’t imagine what you’ve gone through. But hey, if your cup of Joe is as nirvana-inducing as you say, that’s one skill that’ll carry you far.” he beamed innocently. "If there is one thing the people of New York love, it's their coffee. Maybe that's what you can do; hire yourself out to some small little coffee shop willing to pay a dimensional immigrant under the table..." A cheeky smile. "...I mean, then you'd only have to hook may two or three nights a week rather than everyday."

She counted the beans. Some said coffee making was an art. Some, a science. For Raine, it was a bit of both. Maybe she could find a coffee place willing to pay her under the table, but Raine doubted it. The people up front who they trusted with the grinders and the scalding hot water and the customers? Those all had W2's.

"There's not a ton of money in coffee. It's more of a passion than anything else, I guess." That was a nice deflection. She just didn't want to admit all the things that made it impossible for her to go back on the other side of the rip... it was too heavy for having just come in through the window.

"Why don't you give me a name? Pretty much anything's better than what I got right now anyway."

Dark beans weighed less than light roast. This being somewhere in the medium, she choose to count out a medium amount and got to grinding by hand. She could probably do it in the dark by smell and feel as much as by sight.

There was something very zen and grounding about the routine of making coffee. Booker might be a stranger, but he'd accidentally hit on maybe the one thing that let Raine work through what had almost just happened and not freak out. She did take a break from grinding, just for a second, to wipe a tear that had leaked out and was tickling its way down between her nose and cheek. It wasn't a big deal.

Raine dumped the grounds into the press and that was when the kettle started its barest whistle. "Do you get silt in your coffee?" It was full on barista mode, now. "You can combat that by stirring the slurry after it sits for a minute or two. That makes the grounds fall and settle."

Mugs. Right. Raine went hunting for mugs. "Do you take cream or sugar?" What a lovely host she was being to a stranger in his own home.

>>"There's not a ton of money in coffee. It's more of a passion than anything else, I guess."

He snorted. ”Well you don’t get into the coffee biz for the money,” he corrected. ”You get into it for the artistic expression.”

He was just teasing. Coffee shops were no way to live your life, that is unless you planned on spending the rest of your life climbing up the food chain in order to make a living out of it. Really the only way to do that was to be a lifelong career person, starting from cashier and working your way up to a manager position, maybe regional manager. It was only by that point that you could make enough money to truly live a comfortable life. It seemed like the blonde was not willing to dedicated the entirety of her life to coffee, something that he wasn’t altogether surprised at. Still, if she wanted quick cash, it could be an option.

While Booker understood the need to be mysterious, she had no idea who he was, after all, but he still would have liked a least some kind of moniker to refer to her as. He couldn’t very well call her Non-Hooker or The Blonde the rest of the time.

>>"Why don't you give me a name? Pretty much anything's better than what I got right now anyway."

He smirked. Leaning his back against the cabinet doors, the librarian thought this over, stroking his chin in thought. There was something a little dehumanizing in the action, like he was trying to name a pet or something, but he couldn’t very well deny the young woman open choice. So he tried to think but what name was appropriate for her? Samantha? Maya? Lori? All were options, yes, but none of them quite felt right. Then, that was when an idea struck.

”OH! I’ll be right back,” he said. He hopped off the counter, slipped into the living room and made for his bookshelf. Covering his eyes, he dragged his finger across the titles until he stopped at a random book. Eyes still closed, he pulled it out, tucked it under his arm and made his way back into the kitchen.

>> "Do you get silt in your coffee? You can combat that by stirring the slurry after it sits for a minute or two. That makes the grounds fall and settle."

Booker returned to his perch just in time, toying with the book between his fingers. At the woman’s advice, he gave her a gractious nod and wordlessly pointed to where the mugs were. He may have seemed a heel for not helping more but if she already seemed prickly when he was in her personal space before so he didn’t want to intervene again until she at least trusted him a bit more.

>> "Do you take cream or sugar?"

”Both. I have a little bit of a sweet tooth,” he said as he hopped off his perch once more, moved to the fridge and pulled out both a bottle of creamer and then reached into his cabinet for the sugar, all of which he placed on the counter near the woman. ”And...I got a name for you,” he held up the book: The Cthulhu Mythos Encyclopedia. Quickly he explained. ”I’ll flip to a random page and pick the first name I see, deal?” Closing his eyes, he randomly flipped through the pages, back and forth, forward and backwards, left and right, sometimes in a circle because he wanted to be weird that way. He stopped, pointed to a page, and then let his eyes roam the words for the first name. He grinned. ”Selene. That work for you? I mean you could always be...” he pointed to another random page and read it. ”... Nyarlathotep, the Faceless One.”

His pronunciation was on point.

Raine caught that Booker was moving around behind her, but he wasn't moving close so Raine went on pouring the hot water in a circular motion and ignored whatever he was up to. It wasn't important because she could, and would, defend herself. She even had spiffy powers to help so she wasn't too worried.

She waited a bit, smelling the oils releasing from the grounds and taking just a moment to appreciate that she was warm and safe and that coffee was happening.

Not even an hour ago she'd jumped out of a window and then slipped and lost her gravity for a bit. She'd nearly fallen to her death great harm. But that was, like, totally not even a big deal. Usually gravity was her biotch.

Why hadn't gravity been her biotch?

There had been a lot on her mind at the time of the slip. The only other time gravity stopped working for her was when she'd stuck her coworker's phone to the ceiling. It fell by itself. So... maybe she had a time limit she wasn't totally aware of. Inexperience struck again.

Thankfully there was cream and sugar to find. Booker was still fiddling around with his book, but he did take a moment to help her find the mugs. She fished those down and set them aside in order to stir the crust of slurry.

The book was an encyclopedia, as it turned out. An encyclopedia that he used to find a name.

"Selene?" It sounded sleek and more than a little cat burglar-y. A little mischief curled her lips up at the ends. "I could get used to that."

He surprised a laugh out of her with his second suggestion. Being faceless was cool, but..."Nyarl-a-hotep" was not how he'd said that one, but she was going with it, "has a nice ring to it. Is that Egyptian or something?"

She fit the lid on the french press and pushed down the mesh filter. One cup for the encyclopedian, one cup for her. Hers was easier to fix with just the barest smidge of milk. She went ahead and eyeballed what a "sweet tooth" kind of guy might like. Shame, really. Raine (who was seriously considering the merits of being Selene) delivered Booker's latte.

"I did not steam your milk, but feel free to worship me anyway." And of course she craned her neck to see what kind of badass Selene might be.

Booker was making a new friend! Yay! He loved to make new friends...especially when he pulled them to safety from a near fatal fall. Granted that wasn’t a “common” occurrence when he was involved, but it certainly happened more times to him than one would think. He only hoped that, one day, either Juliette or Becca, or both, would forgive him. In the meantime he focused his attention on the lovely blonde and the the task of finding her a new name. She apparently didn’t feel comfortable giving him her real name, making it sound like she was wanted by some shadowy government organization (SCOFF), but he would play along. A fake name would be fine, just so long as he could refer to her as someone rather than “Non-Hooker”.

So he had an idea; he would let chance decide her name. Taking a random book from his shelf, Booker explained that he would randomly flip a page and go with the first name he saw. That way this wasn’t some weird kink novel where he was giving identity to a younger, mysterious woman (Nessa really needed to stop leaving her books around).

Flipping to a page at random, he chose the first name that he saw…


>>"Selene? I could get used to that."

He grinned. ”Selene it is,” he said with a nod. It felt a little weird naming someone who wasn’t your own child, not that he was considering adopting Selene, but so long as she was happy with it, he would use it. Then again, there was always a more unconventional choice...

>>"Nyarl-a-hotep...has a nice ring to it. Is that Egyptian or something?"

The laughter that she issued was appreciated. So far the young woman had treated him with such suspicion and prickliness that Booker was unsure if he could even get her to crack a smile. Thankfully she seemed to be loosening up, even just a little, and that was encouraging. Booker hated to think that people didn’t like him, even though he knew it was a possibility. Even then, he always tried to do whatever he could fix that -- even if it was impossible.

”Better…” Booker answered gleefully and turned the book around to show the cover with the monstrous, octopus-headed elder god. ”...Lovecraftian!”

Really, given the names of some of these fictional entities, Selene had truly lucked out. But his mind shifted away from such thoughts when Selene finally presented him with that humble bit of nirvana in a cup.

>>"I did not steam your milk, but feel free to worship me anyway."

A lighthearted chuckle and Booker lifted the mug to his lips, taking a sip. He was quiet for a moment, simply letting the flavor coat his tongue, letting the scent of the brew beverage tickle his nose. He went still, his eyes drifting over to Selene as he held the cup up to his lips. After a second of watching her, the man just chuckled a bit giddily and nodded his head: okay, so she had some skills.

”Oh Caffeine Goddess, I worship you,” he said teasingly. His expression then grew far more honest. ”Seriously, that an amazing cup of coffee. I’m almost grateful I didn’t let you fall to your death.”

Selene and Nyarl (which now, in Raine's mind, rhymed with Carl) were not Egyptian deities at all.

> ”Better… Lovecraftian!”

Lovecraftian. She mouthed the word, but it sounded like a video game or something. Selene turned her head to see the book better as Booker beamed so proudly at her. Lovecraftian? Those were tentacles. Was this some kind of kink worship? As Booker claimed his coffee and took a proper moment to enjoy his first sip, Selene snuck the book toward herself and flipped a page or two around. Yes. She absolutely wanted to know about how badass Selene was, but she needed to know that she wasn't being made fun of on the sly for her almost-sorta-hooking.

Cxaxukluth. Hziulquoigmnzhah?

She paused to see that Booker was satisfied with his sugar. It was important enough to derail her worry over the weird-ass book in her hands. That was pretty much the only thing she was consistently good at. She wasn't good at being a mutant (she slipped, ffs). She wasn't good at not being a hooker (apparently). She wasn't going to go down the 'I'm not good enough' path right now. She didn't have to wallow in self-pity at all.

He liked it.

"Thanks! But seriously. What is up with these names?"

Selene set her coffee at a safe distance and flipped back a bunch of pages until she saw one a picture she actually recognized.

Cthulhu.

"Ohhhhh! Oh this guy was in that movie Cloverplain." Huh. Now that she was looking closer there were a few that seemed familiar. "And this guy looks like the bad guy from the Binge show Weirder Stuff! Those child actors are so lucky to start their careers so early! And that mom really killed her performance."

Lovecraft, huh?

Okay so the coffee was good, Booker would have to give Selene that. Maybe there was some seriousness behind all the bravado she displayed when it came to making a decent cup of coffee. Either way, he was glad to partake in this nice brew. While he had never expected this meeting to go like this, he was suddenly glad that it was. Selene, when she wasn’t completely on her guard, seemed to be a pretty nice girl. God he hoped that she didn’t just poison his coffee with plans to steal all his stuff. He liked his stuff. She could take Nessa’s.

>>"Thanks! But seriously. What is up with these names?"

He chuckled as he slipped the book over to her. Her curiosity was getting the better of her as he saw her trying to inch it across the countertop towards her. She flipped through pages randomly, trying to see where he saw the name she had been given, but she kept stopping. Her eyes slipped across the near impossible to pronounce names, a look of confusion evident upon her features. She was from the other side of the rip so maybe she really didn’t have any idea who Lovecraft was, nor any of his works.

Booker was about to open his mouth and educate her as to the author’s long body of work, but stopped when her eyes settled on a name that seemed to strike a chord of familiarity: Cthulhu.

>>"Ohhhhh! Oh this guy was in that movie Cloverplain...And this guy looks like the bad guy from the Binge show Weirder Stuff! Those child actors are so lucky to start their careers so early! And that mom really killed her performance."

He grinned. Yes, those characters were inspired by Lovecraft but they weren’t exactly part of the canon. Then again, it wasn’t as if that was something that would have offended the great author, Booker had a feeling that Lovecraft would be pleased to know that his denizens of the deep were living on in one form or another.

”That’s right! Lovecraft’s creations has inspired a lot of creature features. Pretty much anything with too many limbs, eyes, or mouths has Lovecraft stamped all over it.” he said energetically. ”And I completely agree! Weirder Stuff is my favorite show to binge. The mom really brought it this season. Almost makes you forget that weird phase she went through, stealing stuff from shows as a means of ‘getting into character’,” he chuckled. ”Can’t wait for the third season!”

He jumped right in to Raine's enthusiasm. Even better, he kept drinking his coffee. That meant he wasn't just being nice.

"Too many eyes, arms, and mouths...?" That's all it too to be a Lovecraftian creature, eh? "Maybe Lovecraft had a needy boyfriend and then just exaggerated from there." Looking sideways at a Miigo and skimming the paragraph about how it ate brains and then left its victim as a husk of a person... yeah. Definitely something Raine would have said about an ex of hers.

"I think Weirder Stuff was just perfection, except the way they shot the second seasons kind of gave it away too quick. Like, I knew they couldn't kill off the popular sorta ex-boyfriend because the showrunners loved his baseball bat so much. Seriously. Did you notice how much they started or ended a scene looking at that thing?" It was easy to talk about Binge shows. Raine had binged while doing homework. In easier times. In safer conditions. It was an easy mutual experience to share with a sort-of stranger.

Selene sounded like someone who got to binge whenever she wanted. "Has Binge released anything new in the last few months?" TV was yet another passion, but mostly because she someday aimed to be on it.

She flipped to the front in order to find the entry on her namesake and grabbed her coffee. With the warm mug in her hands and a warm floor under her feet, she was almost back up to feeling her toes.

"What do you do for a living, Booker?" He was obviously a nerd from the encyclopedia on pretend stuff, but being nerdy was cool now, as the mass adoption of shows like Weirder Things proved.

It was actually true what Booker had told Selene about recognizing anything with a Lovecraftian influence. Too many limbs and eyes all certainly seemed to be on par with Lovecraft’s work. His entities were supposed to be beyond human understanding, the stuff of nightmares because the man suffered from intense night terrors. To put a face to anything like that would be near impossible but he managed to do it. Now his name was synonymous with all the twisted, dark, and evil things that existed in the dark spaces between the cosmos. That was probably exactly what the man wanted now.

>>"Too many eyes, arms, and mouths...? Maybe Lovecraft had a needy boyfriend and then just exaggerated from there."

Booker snorted. ”Hah. Trust me, let’s not get into that debate,” he teased the young non-barista.

>>"I think Weirder Stuff was just perfection, except the way they shot the second seasons kind of gave it away too quick. Like, I knew they couldn't kill off the popular sorta ex-boyfriend because the showrunners loved his baseball bat so much. Seriously. Did you notice how much they started or ended a scene looking at that thing?"

He laughed. Had to admit that there were some things about season two that could have certainly been improved upon but it still made it a sensational sense of storytelling. But, then again, people always look too critical at what comes after the masterpiece, expecting it to be on the same level. That was the problem, wasn’t it? Once people get a dose of something really good, they wanted to recapture that feeling the next time, over and over again with each iteration. Why do you think sequels were rarely better than the predecessor?

”Yeah, there are some flaws,” he admitted. ”No is perfect, though. I did like the ex’s redemption story. He certainly changed a lot from season one, which I was glad for.” He then paused in thought. ”Though tricked out baseball bats does certainly seem to be the trend. Ever watch Shambling Deceased? The new big-bad-guy with the barbed wire baseball bat?” He chuckled. ”Definitely sensing a pattern here.”

>>"Has Binge released anything new in the last few months?"

Booker continued to sip at his coffee. ”I think the last big thing they came out with was that new superhero show, the Discipliner,” he snorted, shaking his head. ”I still can’t say that name without giggling. It was a pretty good show, though. Kinda overly bloody but, with a character like that, it is supposed to be.” He shrugged.

>>"What do you do for a living, Booker?"

He turned, heading back into the living room, giving Selene room to follow if she wanted to. It was easier to talk about things in the living room rather than in the cool kitchen. Besides, any mess she made could be easily cleaned up later.

Setting his hip against the side of a chair, he smirked as he answered. ”Don’t laugh, but…” he prepared for her to laugh. Most people did when they knew his name, especially his full name. ”...I’m a librarian.”

> "...I did like the ex’s redemption story..."

"So much better when they grow." She agreed between sips and page flips.

> "Ever watch Shambling Deceased?"

"I didn't think I wanted to, but once I realized it was a personal drama with super magnified circumstances and a smidge of gore, I liked it a ton better. Could allllllmost practically leave off the zombies except that I loved inspecting those actors during scenes. They never break." And that was two or three mentions of actors in the span of a few minutes? Selene resolved not to so obviously tip her hand as Raine the aspiring actress. Selene was much cooler than that.

> "the last big thing they came out with was that new superhero show, the Discipliner”

The combination of raised eyebrows and the slow draw of her eyes up from the page held everything that Selene had to say about that. WHY DID EVERYTHING SOUND SO KINKY TODAY!?!? Selene snortled into her coffee cup. Okay, okay. She couldn't read this book for beans while Booker was around, apparently. She'd been looking at the Selene page for how long and the most she'd gotten out of it was something, something moon. Selene was just a blanket badass goddess worthy of non-euclidean planetary space and the casual inspiration of madness. She'd stick with that.

So. Maybe she'd gleaned a bit more than just "the moon."

Booker made his oh-so-casual escape to the living room, but he didn't sit. Raine moved around to the other side of the kitchen and leaned back against the counter. She would have hiked herself up to sit there, but even short as she was, Selene didn't want to hit her head on the upper cabinets.

> ”Don’t laugh, but…”

Fireman.
Private eye.
Pro pole vaulter... sounded too kinky.
Oh.
Oh no.
Oh gods in R'yleh.
She'd offended a sex worker.

> ”...I’m a librarian.”

That was such a jump from where she'd been mentally chasing her tail that it took Selene a blink or two for her to put the pieces together.

Booker.

The librarian.

"You're sh*tting me." She raked him up and down with her eyes. Booker. He was such a looker.
Booker? A librarian? C'mon. How gullible did she look?

The reaction was almost always the same. No matter how charming, how angry, or how douchey Booker presented himself (okay, those last two he never really tried to act like), people always reacted the same way to Booker when he told them his job. He didn’t understand the surprise or the disbelief in their voices, nor their accusations that his parents had locked him into a job market since birth. Showed what they knew; his parents wanted him to work in the family book store so nyah! But, having read enough comic books in his lifetime, he guessed there was some room for suspicion. How many Booker Bookmans were actually librarians in this world? It seemed almost like a prime excuse to escape destiny.

Booker, however, embraced it. While he didn’t end up in a bookstore like his parents wanted, they did instill in him a great love of books and literature. So what if his named just happened to be ‘Booker’, it didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy what he enjoyed, right? Who were people to judge?

Then he saw the look on her face, the slacken jaw, the disbelieving eyes, and he knew that at least one person felt that it was their duty to commencing judging. He sighed, closed his eyes, and just waved his hand lazily for her to get on with it. The soon that she did, the sooner he could get on to explaining, and the sooner they could move past it.

>>"You're sh*tting me."

He snorted. Not as eloquent as some, yet no less memorable. He would take a mental snapshot of that moment for future posterity. In the meantime, he sighed, and sipped his coffee. In a world where a giant rip in spacetime has suddenly appeared in the middle of a metropolis, exposing everyone to an alternate universe, and this what gets the young woman surprise meter ticking into the red? Another chuckle and another sip before he answered.

]”No, I’m not,” he said with practiced patience. ”The name’s Booker B. Bookman and I have been a librarian at the New York Public Library for the past several years, ever since I graduated from college.” A breath. ”Yes, this is my legal name. No, I didn't change it. Yes, my parents were book fanatics with a sense of humor. No, I was not ‘forced’ into this job because of my name. Yes, librarians do look like this. No, I won’t tell you what my middle initial stands for. Yes, I do expect you to figure it out for yourself if you want to. No, I’m not kidding. Yes...I’m still not kidding.” He grinned, took another sip of coffee and tilted his head towards her. ”That about cover it?”

The roaring silence of disbelief was drowning out just about all attempts for her brain to restart.

He explained and she took a breath to cut in with an interjection that he must have changed his name. But, no. He had an answer for that too. He had all the answers so neatly lined up that Raine realized her mouth was agape.

PSYCHIC?!?

Her brain practically screamed the word and then she found herself mentally apologizing just in case he actually was. But he didn't cringe? So maybe he wasn't? Was there such a thing as mental volume?

Selene shut her mouth and cradled her coffee cup between her hands so that she could leech all its warmth.

> ”That about cover it?”

'Not by half.' She admitted to his brain, just in case he was psychic.

He was in the middle of another sip when her most burning unanswered question came tumbling out on its own.

"So you're not a sex worker, then?" He had the abs for it...

Selene was perfectly ready to be embarrassed no matter what the answer was.

If it was yes... she had no shoes and she was in the home of a psychic sex worker.

HOLY SH8T PSYCHIC SEX!!! THAT HAD IMPLICATIONS! (Sorry, sorry. Mental sorry for mental shouting.)

If it was a no... she'd just called him a hooker. Which was what she'd been all irritated about being mistaken as.

But. Seriously... "I-I just mean that I've never met a librarian at all let alone one that looked like you and you said that yeah they exist and then I was thinking maybe that was a euphemism and I let you give me a name and you could totally legit be selling me this story that you're a "librarian" because I just sort of insulted all sex workers which I was not intending to to by the way and--" And she had just spit out more words in the last minute than was good for any human or mutant. Yep. Taking a sip of coffee now and shutting up.

They were questions that Booker had heard a million times. People asking him if his name was real, stating that he was part of some conspiracy, or that he was a cruel victim of fate. It was none of those; it just so happened that Booker was named after the thing that he loved and he was in no way influenced by it. He loved to read, ever since he was a kid, he loved stories, the feel of pages between his fingers, and the scent that they managed to invoke in the air. Maybe, in some way, he was destined to be a librarian, but he liked to think he had some small say in it too.

All that aside, Booker answered the litany of questions that he was, usually, asked. It helped that he had an eidetic memory, allowing him to recall almost every conversation like this and the answers that followed. There was no better way to anticipate what someone was going to say than to live through the previous events, time after time after time after time after time…

So, he waited, smirking a little, pleased with himself, watching the utter shock and awe wash over her face. Okay, so maybe there was a little too much awe on her expression. At most he expected a snort or a dismissive wave of her hand, something so that could unfreeze her -- but nothing came. Rather, something wholly unexpected followed….

>>"So you're not a sex worker, then?"

”What?!” he asked with total surprise. So startled was his answer that he almost spilled coffee on himself. After a moment, and ensuring that he wasn’t burned, he titled an eyebrow in her direction before he snorted. ”No. I’m not a sex worker.”

Really! How some people could jump to such ridiculous conclusions...

>>"I-I just mean that I've never met a librarian at all let alone one that looked like you and you said that yeah they exist and then I was thinking maybe that was a euphemism and I let you give me a name and you could totally legit be selling me this story that you're a "librarian" because I just sort of insulted all sex workers which I was not intending to to by the way and--"

So that was a lot of words that all came out around the same time. Booker followed the tirade as best he could, listening as Selene pretty much praise and insulted him (maybe?) at the same time. Really he wondered how he could have confused her as a hooker; weren’t hookers quieter than this? At least that was something he assumed, not from personal experience, of course. At the end, the man could only shake his head with utter bewilderment.

”That was a lot that you just said right now,” he laughed. Finally, rewinding it in his head, he tried to pick out everything confused string of words so that he could respond properly. ”If there are librarian hookers, and there probably are considering that this is New York, I am not one of them. I’m just...a librarian.” he assured her. ”And you were the one who made me give you a name,” he smirked, a hand on his hip.