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Ezra's lips thinned in an uncertain frown, nodded imperceptibly when the lady assured him it was alright. But then... she kept talking. Why could she not just let him slip away in embarrassment.

>> "What are you looking for? Something specific?"

"J-just a book," Ezra murmured. Maybe that seemed like too abrupt, too rude of a response, "I haven't, ah, decided on a specific one. I'm just waiting to see what jumps out at me."

This last bit was said more hurriedly than his first remark. His golden eyes slid sideways, appraisingly. A cute, petite blonde woman was standing beside him, her hands tucked innocently behind her. The gangly man quirked a smile, a brief and uneasy flicker in his expression. Women were a mystery to him. Positively terrifying.

"E-even though books most- most certainly do not jump!" Ezra amended, "Y-you know... you already know that."

"Bite me!" the kid yelled back at the Asian man. Ezra, although thinly annoyed, was almost seeming more and more distressed. There were books everywhere, and even if they made this hooligan pick up all of the books, he most certainly would not shelve them properly. His library would be in disarray for at least a week, all thanks to this misguided youth. Ezra found himself wishing that there was more to his power than just "elderly and sick of you nonsense". If only he could telekinetically grab hold of this ruffian and kindly show him to the exit.

Instead, the bewildered homunculus stood, silently seething. What had he done, he wondered, to incur the wrath of this yahoo, anyways? Ezra was sineless on the best of days, it would be nigh unheard of for him to offend someone.

"I don't suppose that you have a, erm, mutation that could contain this wind-storm?" Ezra inquired of the Asian man, raising his voice so that he could be heard over the howling wind. Of course they could just wait until the child ran out of the gumption to wreck the library, but would there even be a library left at that point?

The girl rippled over an explanation of how she'd arrived at the school, and Ezra grabbed a few snatches here-and-there of her description. He was rusty. It would take time for him to settle back into his Arabic-speaking tendencies. Now, German-- German was a language he'd be able to pick-up again without issue. It was, after all, his first language.

From what Ezra gleaned, her father lived in Washington, her mutant ability was newfound, and it was her mutant ability that compelled Rivka's father to send her there.

"Xavier's is a good school for learning that," Ezra agreed, his voice trailing off as he slid a book back into its spot, "When I was... younger-" this word was carefully chosen, for he couldn't remember ever having a childhood, "-there weren't schools like Xavier's. You learned about abilities alone."

So, it wasn't a flawless explanation. But his struggles with Arabic meant that certain details were lost. Other details were purposefully excluded simply because Ezra, like many older individuals, didn't talk about difficult times freely-- and his beginnings were certainly "difficult times".

It also meant that Ezra wouldn't ask such baseless questions as to the nature of a lady's mutation. That, in his opinion, was an incredibly personal question. A gentleman would not ask a lady such a thing.

"What brings you to the library?" he asked, in English this time, "May I be of assistance to you, in any way?"

The library was his domain. And if Miss Rivka wanted answers, or aid, that was something that Ezra could provide-- in literary form, at the very least.

Ezra was drawn from the stacks by a sudden clatter (someone falling or knocking something over), followed by the surprised giggles of onlookers. As the responsible adult, Ezra was compelled to investigate. As a harried librarian at a mutant school, he was dreading what he might find.

What he found was rather commonplace-- a young women, strewn awkwardly on the floor, a step-stool tangled with her legs. Poor thing must have taken a tumble.

"Are y-" Ezra began to inquire, his voice soft. He hadn't mastered the teacher-voice quite yet. After three-hundred years of being mousy and complacent, speaking with authority did not come naturally. His inquiry was cut short when the girl muttered a stream of foul words-- not in English-- and began hastily collecting items that had been scattered from her purse. Ezra stared, bewildered, for a moment. When one had encountered as many languages as he had, it sometimes took a while for the gears of his mind to translate and process which one he was hearing.

'A-Arabic,' the homunculus observed, the word creaking out of him in the very same language. He smiled timidly. It had been many years since he'd flexed that linguistic muscle, so the sentences came gradually, 'You speak Arabic?'

He was forgetting his manners! He hadn't even introduced himself.

"I-I am Mr. Pahlke!" he said hastily, in English now. He'd offer his hand to the girl, for a handshake, or to help her up-- oh, but that would be peculiar, since she was still picking things off of the floor-- and his arms were full of books, "I am the librarian, here."

Being a librarian was a dream come true for the bibliophile-- at least it would have been, in an ideal world. In this world, there was no shortage of peculiar antics, particularly at Xavier's Sister School. Ezra was beginning to develop an intuitive sense for these things. If it had been quiet for a while, it was likely that something should soon go astray.

Perhaps he was being paranoid-- but a small dose of paranoia was healthy. A rustling drew the attention of the homunculus, who was in his office attempting to wrangle his email back under control. The clamor of a gale and shouting voices snagged his attention. The only thought that flickered through his mind was, What is it this time?

It was as though a tornado had landed in the library, whipping books off of shelves and throwing a flurry of loose papers into the air. An unintelligible sound of alarm left Ezra's mouth. What a mess! What hellion was making such a disaster zone oh his library?! The audacity! The disrespect! A flush was creeping into his neck, and his face was scrunched with annoyance. He saw the Asian man disappear to the next row of shelves.

"E-excuse me!" Ezra called, moving to the next aisle, albeit at the opposite end from the Asian man, "Is this-?"

The question that was to follow would have ended with "-your doing?" if he gave the man benefit of the doubt, or "-any say to behave in a library?" if he didn't. But at that moment his eyes found the perpetrator, clearly a child, and clearly four meters off of the ground. Wind whipped around them frantically.

"What in the devil..." Ezra groaned, his complaint swallowed in the roaring gale.

Anyone who might insist that parties looke these were an unusual place to spy the lives of Ezra... would earn a begrudging concurrence. Ezra was entirely out of his element. He had come with visions of galas past swimming in his eyes-- you know, the good old days of centuries past-- when he'd seen the invitation for this benefit on All Hallow's Eve. He'd donated his funds, of which the were plenty, in order to obtain a ticket. His overzealous tenants had helped Ezra acquire a befitting costume.

Tonight he wrote a pinstripe suit with high-waisted slacks, an eccentric, bat-like tie, and a partial, skeletal face mask. The entirety of this ensemble was reminiscent of a particular animated skeleton. His massive height and spindly limbs only helped complete the look. His hair was neatly pulled back with a black ribbon, though a few stray locks escaped here or there.

Ezra walked with hands pressed together at the fingertips, and the fingertips alone, walking long, steady strides from door to door. Parties were not his cup of tea. As such, he was looking for a library. Surely a house of such stately history had one, at least at some point.

Ezra nodded in quiet confirmation. There was indeed a restroom, and who was he to deny someone the right to use it? He didn't even know where they went on these tours, besides the library-- he supposed that the bathroom would be a necessary trip at one point in the tour.

"Relatively new," Ezra agreed, "It is not a bad place to work. The staff is small, and I have always enjoyed the library... so it is a job that I am happy to fill."

At least, for the time being. He tended to cycle through jobs every twenty or so years, maximum. As the girl anticipated, Ezra did get the door for her, stepping aside to allow her to pass. It was a force of habit-- from his era of origin, or perhaps because he was literally built to serve others. Once L had entered, Ezra followed her in, absentmindedly wringing his hands as he walked.

"This way," he said faintly, gesturing towards the hall, to the left. Where were the student restroom again? Towards the classrooms? he didn't pass them on his way into the library. His amber eyes slid over doors inquiringly. He was too bashful to ask a student. After some quiet milling, he saw the familiar placard on the wall with the simplified woman in a dress and the words "Girls' Restroom" written plainly in English and Braille.

"Here you are," Ezra said, gesturing with a palm pointed upwards. He could call to request an actual tour guide once they got to the library, "I'll, hm, wait in the foyer."

It felt weird to stand in the hallway outside of the girls' room. But... if he stood in the hall, he could see when Ms. Gardener left the restroom. He'd wait to walk to the foyer until after she disappeared within the bathroom.