Luke didn't have anything against libraries, honest. He wasn't as big a book person anymore because paper and claws don't mix but it was a good place to chill with a tablet for a couple hours.

Nah, the reason Luke was fuming was that this stupid crappy computer wasn't cooperating. There wasn't an available chair for a bigger guy like him so he was hunched over at a cramped little desk trying to type out another two freaking pages of an essay. He had been sitting here for like an hour, and he probably still had three more to go. Ugh. Homework.

Seriously, you'd think the actual X-training stuff would be the hard part, but Luke was getting bogged down by an English assignment. He hated English class. He could read and talk and he had a good vocabulary and all that, why did he need to be a frickin' poet too?! Luke shifted pointlessly, his elbows wouldn't fit anywhere and his knees were pressed against the underside of the desk.

This paper was a mess. Three whole pages of babble about 'Great Gatsby'. He'd read the whole thing, too, and it wasn't even that bad, but how was he supposed to know what F. Scott Fitzgerald intended with anything? Having noticed he'd been mindlessly tapping the spacebar on the keyboard for like a minute, Luke moved his finger to the backspace. And another thing, Luke using standard keyboards was about as fun as counting grains of rice; meticulous, slow, and requiring a painful amount of focus. Hunt-and-peck was about the best he could do with his huge claws in the way.

Wait, crap, he went to far back. Ctrl-Z it was, then back to actually being productive. Well, he tried. After undoing at least four half-finished sentences, Luke was well and truly tired of this. He was tempted at this point to just go back to his room or something, but if he took a break he'd never get it done by tomorrow. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone looking at him weirdly, and realized he'd been making a growling noise out of frustration.

This sucked. Luke sighed and lowered his head in frustration, gently pressing his forehead against the keyboard. After a moment he sat back up, raised his arms in a stretch, and took another...look.

Where was the word document? Oh no, oh no, did he--S***. He closed it with his stupid face on the stupid keyboard and he knew he was bad about saving so h'd have to do a bunch of stuff over and-

"Arrrgh!" He raised and then slammed the mouse in his hand against the desk. The whole thing rattled violently, and the loud crack told him he'd smashed the thing to pieces even before he looked at it.

Luke dropped his head against the table much less gently this time, groaning in total frustration.

The Complete Works of William Shakespeare.

Michael flipped the book over in his hands, taking in its rich thickness and tempting weight. He grinned at the prospect of reading it all throughout the week, then widening his grin at the satisfaction of fine literature lasting him the entirety of the week where he had nothing but free time before he got started with classes.

It was just the other day that Michael had arrived at the Institute to both move in and finalize his enrolment as a student, or as he liked to call it, an honorary member of the Freaks Club. But who was he to judge, really? Either way, he was glad to have the opportunity to relish in the comforting sensation of a warm blanket curling around his aching body, held together by a stable, cushiony mattress underneath him. Frankly, he felt he deserved it after being mugged, falling onto the ice-cold pavement of the street, and being dragged around by a sickeningly cheerful gargoyle girl all day long.

He cringed at the memory.

However, he was here now, with ample rest, food warming him up from within, a book in hand, and best of all, no disturbances in sight. He was in heaven. He never used to care much for the library as a bumbling youngster. Always the bouncing ball of joy that his past self was, he was always too spinning, dropping, cartwheeling and somersaulting to give a damn about what interesting people and worlds books held within them. As bittersweet as it was, it was only when he was confined to the embittering restraints of a hospital bed did he stop to experience the magic and mystery of paper and text. Perhaps it was the fact that with books, he could go somewhere despite being stuck in one place. Perhaps it was the fact that they provided a tiny window of opportunity where he could, for once, not be in his pitiful state. Perhaps it was the fact that in stories, the protagonist had a purpose, a goal to reach, something that Michael once had, and now may never really have.

Michael looked up from his book, taking a break from his internal monologue to instead drink in the sight of the library itself. While he was in between two towering shelves, he at least got to marvel at the cubic constructs chiseled from mahogany wood, their dark lines still traced with the warmth of the tropics. Filling the gaps in each shelf were books upon books upon more books, each lined up for his convenience, for his entertainment, because he sure as hell was making this place his go-to sanctuary in the Institute. It was the quietest place, after all, and per rules, there was no possible way he could ever be interrupted by any sort of ruckus–

>>"Arrrgh!"

Because of course Michael Phelipe Santos never got what he wanted.

The dark-haired mutant let out a heavy sigh before pushing his wheelchair forward, book still in his lap, directing the wheels with steady pushes from his arms, and turning around to view the computer area, and letting his eyes dart from concerned onlooker to ignorant hard worker to slightly alarmed bystander to finally rest on one particular individual, sat awkwardly at one of the computers, clearly seething at the disproportionate ratios between his appendages and the machinery before him.

Or at least, Michael assumed it was a ‘him’. After all, it was particularly difficult to determine sex when it came to a humanoid lycanthrope. However, from the low growls, the somewhat masculine grunts and voice, and the other mutant’s large build, he felt confident in his calculated guess.

Then the lycanthrope slumped into the desk, defeated. The way in which he carefully lowered himself was so sad it was actually rather adorable for Michael. But not quite adorable enough for Michael to forget what he investigated the source of the noise for.

“Could you quiet it down?” Michael asked curtly as he wheeled across the carpeted floor. “Some of us here would actually like to read in peace.”

Then, when he caught side of the smashed mouse, the mutant added with a raised eyebrow, “And do you always break school property when you get angry?”

Ezra was behind the front desk of the library, deft hands wrapping new hardback books in protective plastic. Typically, he reserved wrapping books for student assistants, but the aides were busy shelving books or dusting. And besides, sometimes taking a break for mindless endeavors could be cathartic.

The sounds of a yell of frustration, followed by the sound of something breaking, tore the homunculus from his thoughts. That was never a good sign, especially in a school full of gifted children with far too many hormones to grapple with. He should probably make sure there wasn't a fight unfolding, or that no one was hurt...

Ezra emerged from the front desk, wringing his hands together. He spied... what appeared to be an enormous bipedal canine, and a boy in a wheelchair. He couldn't immediately discern what had been broken.

"What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?" he inquired. Amber eyes slid between the two of them, and a furrow knit in his brow. Both boys seemed to have thin patiences, but the homunculus could not discern why.

God damn it.

And of course what he really needed now was that snotty kid being snotty at him. Yeah, okay, his bad getting loud, but c'mon, that's his response? Urgh.

Luke paused to steady himself as he sat back up and focused his glare on the blank word document instead of the other guy. Michael was his name, or something. He was new. That was a point in his favor, sure--Luke hadn't been a pinnacle of sympathy when he first got here--but he was still frustrated and the guy was NOT helping.

Luckily, he didn't get the chance to speak up before the librarian walked over, heralded by the strong earthy scent of the guy. Mr. Pahlke was...an enigma, but in a good way! Luke liked him in the distant way you can like someone without talking to them much. So like, horror movie jokes aside, that was actually a fair source of kindred feelings. Not the 'monster' part but the 'being out-of-place and surrounded by people who you want to relate to but they're usually too put off to want to be your friend' thing. He was also so quiet and mild that Luke would feel super guilty if he upset him.

At the very least, his presence was enough to hammer into his skull that this was a public--in a manner of speaking--place and making a scene was a stupid thing to do. His expression quickly shifted in an embarrassed half-smile.

"Sorry, I had a computer glitch and, well..." Luke picked up the cracked pieces of the mouse. It was in three big pieces so maybe someone could glue it together but that person was not him. "I'll be quiet now. Sorry."

He gave an apologetic nod to Michael. Honestly he was still a little annoyed about the whole thing but at least he'd defused himself to not, like, throw something. Success? Oh, idea. He turned around and grabbed a mouse from another empty computer and swapped it into the USB port to replace the busted one. Luke was...decently confident he could try to pull back the missing file? Worth a shot.

Still, first he looked back up at Mr. Pahlke, awaiting a verdict.