(For Sammie)
Keye had really made an attempt to look normal today: just jeans and a wool turtleneck. He was already going someplace weird to do something weird, so he figured that he'd err on the side of caution and not look weird for once.
He stepped into Jacobson's, and his manner changed immediately. Outside on the street, he walked with confidence, almost a swagger. He knew where he stood, out there. But inside the quiet, dusty bookshop, the tall young man felt utterly out-of-place.
He hunched his shoulders, shoved one hand into his pocket, and began to edge sideways along one of the bookshelves. There were plenty of strange books, some with titles in languages that he couldn't even read, but so far no sign of what he was looking for.
Okay, so there had been that one book, but it had been in Old English or something, how was he supposed to decipher it?
In a nutshell, he was looking for 'Exorcism for Dummies,' and he wasn't going to find anything so simple.

Such a pity that Dr. Barclay, who had published books both in the world of the Innish and of the Unnish, had never made much of a study into the world of exorcism. Oh, I'm sure he could figure something out, but it wasn't his particular field.

Actually, he was looking for a few things himself. Most of the information out there on demigods was rather inconclusive--he was vaguely hoping that there would be something more concrete that he could find before he tried to figure out Andrei Petrov...

He's a tall man, not so tall as to seem awkward, but not average either. Black hair with white streaks at the temples. Business slacks and a button-down shirt, with a sports jacket, but no tie. He looks like what he is; a professor of English literature.

He can also read Old English, Middle English, and several other languages. He has a Ph.D, after all.

Just by chance, Keye had one long finger resting on a book that looked (from what could be seen over his hand) as if it might be of some use to the proffessor. Keye didn't know it of course...he was too busy staring. To him, this distinguished gentleman was high society. He didn't see or associate with people 'like that' (i.e. educated, employed in a legal fashon, etc.) often, and he was feasting his eyes.
Of course, he'd made sure that his sunglasses were securely in place first.

"Pardon me," Alexander says in a smooth, cultured baritone voice. There are rumors that some of the girls at Keaton take his classes just because they have a thing for the professor. There are also rumors that he deliberately fails anyone foolish enough to do so.

"But I believe I might need that book, young man."

Keye reminds him of some of his less industrious students. The ones that he glares at with those piercing dark eyes and asks pointed, specific questions about the readings, which they, of course, cannot answer.

"Young man?"
He snatched his hand away from the book, but continued to stare at the Proffessor, glaring now. He tended to get a bit defensive over very little.
"I think you underestimate me."
Well, he probably wouldn't have been able to answer, and it would probably be because he hadn't done the reading. He saw no point in working at something as difficult as that, which he hated anyway. It didn't matter, as he wasn't enrolled in college.

"Young man, yes. Unless you think that nineteen is old?"

Deftly, he took the book down from the shelf and flipped through it, scanning briefly. It didn't look to be any more certain about what precisely one could expect from demi-gods than the other books he had and had seen.

Still, he would buy it, just in case something would come to light with further reading that he had not seen in the quick skim.

"As a matter of fact, I do." adjusting the sling that supported his left arm, he crouched down for access to a lower shelf. He turned slightly, away from Alexander, so that the older man couldn't see his hands shaking. How uncanny, for the stranger to have guessed...
"I think I'm old and I'm feeling pain." he said softly, running his fingertip along the dusty spines. "So tell me, how did you know my exact age?"
Miraculously, his voice was steady.

"I'm a university professor," Alexander explained, faintly amused at the apparent nervousness of the boy. "I see dozens of children your age every single day. It's nothing special."

He didn't comment on the previous statements, for the very simple reason that he did not think they deserved commentary. Let the boy reach fifty, and then he could say he was old.

"You're a hot university proffessor." Keye replied with a malevolent grin, intending to throw the irritatingly in-control man a little off-kilter.
"Anyway..."
Proffessors are suckers for knowledge, right? He can help me.
"I'm doing some research for my Theology class...trying to find something about exorcism outside of Catholicism. Any suggestions?"

"You're welcome to look, young man, but I'm afraid I'm unavailable." Alexander irritates rather a lot of people that way. He likes to be in control. A lot.

"As to your question..." He shrugged. "I haven't made a particular study of exorcisms, but I'd have to know what sort of demon you were actually looking to banish. There are different types, according to mythology."

Please note that he didn't actually believe Keye's statement about Theology class.

Actually, it seemed to delight Keye. "You're good, kid. Real good. But next to me, you'll always be second best."
He paused, chewing his lower lip. The reddened and raw appearance of the feature suggested that he did that a lot. He realized that if he were really taking Theology, he'd probably know what kind of demon he was looking for.
"Well...um, well...you know." he mumbled, turning rather red. "Wings...teeth...red eyes...classic, ya know?"

Typical. The boy didn't even know what he was looking for. No wonder he couldn't find it. Also, he had decided to ignore any more remarks of a flirtatious nature. He was old enough to be this young man's mo--I mean, father.

"Well. That certainly doesn't give me a great deal with which to work, young man. Perhaps you ought to do a bit more research on your demon before you look for the proper exorcism."

"My demon?!" he snarled, completely overreacting. "What the hell do you mean my demon? It isn't mine, I didn't ask for it!"
He stopped, and his face drained of all color. His jaw hung slack.
"Oh. Oh fuck."
Look where you're mouth has gotten you now, Keye...this is probably the most efficient way of getting us locked up.
He let out a strangled cry and tried to stand, to get away. He stumbled, causing several large books to crash down over his head, and only ended up on the floor again, his good arm raised protectively over his head.

"Watch your language," Alexander said automatically, though his eyes lit up in curiosity as he stepped back to avoid the shower of books.

"So. This isn't for a Theology class at all." No, really? "Perhaps you ought to come down to my office; I have a much more specific and organized library than Jacobson's inventory. There is much here that is useful, but one must know precisely what one is looking for."

"Fuck! Don't tell me to fucking watch my language!" realizing how childish he sounded, he added as a wry afterthought, "You're not the boss of me. 'course it isn't for any class, I don't even go to college."
He got to his feet rather painfully. His legs hurt, and he couldn't remember why. Generally, he didn't question where he acquired mysterious bruises.
"Um..." he shuffled his feet, seeming suddenly quiet and shy...maybe even a little frightened. "Okay. How come you keep saying 'one'? Why can't you just say 'you'?"

"I am an English professor." Duh. How many other people do you know who actually watch their grammar when they're speaking, eh?

"Since this is for no class, am I to assume that you are looking up exorcisms simply to amuse yourself? Or..." His smile could have been on a toothpaste commercial, but there wasn't much friendliness in it. "Perhaps you are looking for a way to rid yourself of what you call a demon?"

His smile widened. "As I said. I have quite a good library." Isn't professional curiosity wonderful?

"Oh, damn it. Look, I don't talk so good, most of the time. So don't get on my back about it, kay?"
He twitched his shoulders as if something actually was on his back.
"...for my own amusement." his lie was weaker this time, but if there was still a chance at deception, he was going to take it.

"Well. You do not talk so well." Habit. And something of a malicious enjoyment.

One eyebrow lifted in an expression of pure skepticism. "Mhmm. You could not simply watch 'The Exorcist;' you had to come all the way to this bookstore and look through myriad books that in all reasonable likelihood have nothing to do with the subject? Why not simply admit that you believe that you are indeed dealing with a demon and come to my office?"

"That's what I said." he glared. "Just asked you not to bug me about it."
He stared blankly at Alexander for a long moment. It was kind of creepy, how smart the guy was. He picked up on everything, or at least it seemed that way.
"I've seen 'The Exorcist' like six times. Anyway, I said outside of Catholicism. I..."
His shoulders slumped, a silent admission of defeat.
"Okay, fine." he mumbled, though in the back of his mind, fears and doubts stirred.
What if he closes the door and locks it?
Shut up. He won't. Don't be stupid.
But what if...?
He shuddered, looking at the floor. Well...the guy's office was probably on campus. That was something to look forward too.

"No, you did not say that. However, argument on that point is rather useless." Since after all Keye was unlikely to correct what seemed to be the habitual mode of speech for just about every English speaker in the wolrd in a few hours, after all.

"My car is just out front. Come along." He paused as he turned to go. "And you may call me Dr. Barclay."

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. I do not speak very well. Please excuse the lack of education, I've been busy."
He followed, keeping pace easily but by no means gracefully.
"Dr. Barclay, right. I'm Keye Tomlinson. Call me whichever you like better."

"Well, Tomlinson," Alexander said as he strode out of the store and down the few yards to his car (which was a handsome, useful, and subdued 'I'm rich' sort of vehicle. Dr. Alexander Barclay had a few bestsellers out, both among the Innish and the Unnish, and royalties were nice.) "Suppose you tell me more about your demon, so I will have something with which to start when we reach my office."

Professional curiosity, mostly, and perhaps a vague idea that he might want to do a bit of experimentation on the demon that could be useful with a God. Unlikely, but a demon was a demon, and did need to be removed from this plane before it caused all sorts of havoc.

Carefully, Keye folded himself into the passenger side of the car. Once inside, with the door shut, he gave the impression of something potentially explosive-however nice, the car was too small to contain all the energy. Keye shifted uncomfortably, and constantly.
"Um...it's, ah, it lives inside my head. I only see it sometimes. It's all...red, all over, and it looks like a person...but like a cat. And it's got wings and red eyes and everything, I wasn't kidding about that part."
There was a short silence, during which Keye's fidgeting doubled.
"It hates me." he said finally.

"Is that all you can tell me?" the professor asked irritably. "That could be any number of things, including a mental disorder of your own. If that is all you know about it, you will have to excuse me, but I cannot work with that little information. Magic is far from an exact science, but it has plenty of rules and restraints and if I don't know what I'm dealing with, I will not risk making the situation work."

He fiddled with the glovebox, rattling it rather violently.
"Not schizophrenia. It's...different. When it has me, I move differently...which is sort of hard for me to do, because I have certain problems with my motor functions...and that thing makes me graceful."
He looked at Dr. Barclay raising an eyebrow.
"Wasn't asking you to get rid of it. All I wanted was information."
His voice had gone cold for a moment, just a hint that he could, if he wanted, be a scary person. He ruined the effect, though, by adding wistfully
"Plus I've never been on a real college campus before."

((Yo, Liki. Two things: No one was yelling, and it's really kinda rude to jump in in the middle like that.))

"That is pitiful. You never even visited one in your high school years?" Dr. Barclay sounds quite incredulous.

"I didn't say I would get rid of it. I might, if I can, but the information you have given me is not even enough to tell me what it is, exactly."

((They were never shouting. Also, they're in a car. Also, it's rude to walk into the middle of a board without asking the players. Also, one-liners are against the rules of Once.))

((Alright, alright, it seemed like it the way I read it, okay? And, I'll go.))

"Pitiful?" he repeated, bristling. "Thanks, man. 'preciate that. No, as a matter of fact, I didn't. Is that a problem?"
He stared sullenly out the window, his hand continuing to twitch and rove over the dashboard.
"I dunno what it is either...that's why I was looking. It's parasitic...that's about all I know."

"I see. Well, I will allow you to look through my library, but I doubt that you will find anything. You don't seem to know where to start, even."

Pitiful, yes. Alexander had visited several university and college campuses by his sophomore year of high school. It was something he could hardly imagine anyone not doing...

"Parasitic... Appears as a catlike humanoid... Wings, fangs... Hates you... I don't suppose you know precisely off what part of you it feeds?"

"You haven't answered my first question yet. Look at you, making assumptions. You should be ashamed of yourself."
He hunched his shoulders and rearranged himself rather violently so that he was facing away from Dr. Barclay.
"Yeah, I know what it feeds on. Hurt. Bad stuff. If it can't get anything recent, and it's hungry, it'll remind me of stuff until I'm upset enough to satisfy it."

"I should think that it was obvious," Alexander replied to the first half of Keye's comments, and to the second half... "I'm not entirely certain that it is an exorcism that you need. Perhaps banishment, or containment..."

His mind is wandering off into professional realms and magical jargon. Good luck getting anything useful out of him now, Keye.

"Obvious!"
Yeah, he was still pissed about the college thing. He had a lot of bitterness about that.
"Like you can look down into a person's insides and know things about them? You're pitiful."
A short pause.
"What he hell are you talking about?"

"Hm?"

Alexander blinked, then offered a surprisingly apologetic smile. It made him look much less stern, much more personable... and it was also, incidentally, rather fake. Too bad.

"I suppose I was rambling off into professional jargon. I simply mean that what you may need to do is contain the creature, inside of your mind, rather than exorcising it. Similar to... oysters, and the creation of pearls, you see. Seal it away, rather than letting it loose to perhaps attach itself to someone else."

"Do you know how much it would hurt, if you were an oyster and there was a piece of sand inside of you? That's how it is, and that's why I want it out. Besides, pearls are nice, and nothing nice is ever gonna come outta that thing. There's no way I could just kill it?"
He was rolling the window down, now, and then up again, and then down again...well, what I'm trying to say is, if you put him somewhere cramped, he's annoying.
"I wanted to, you know." he added, completely out of the blue.

"Stop that," Alexander admonishes, referring to the playing with the window.

"My point is that if it is sealed off inside your mind--and obviously it is not a physical being, yet or ever--it will not be able to reach your mind, nor will it be able to feed off of you. If, as you say, it feeds off of negative emotions, once it cannot reach them any longer, it is likely to starve."

"Huh? Oh, sorry. I hadn't noticed I was doing that. Sorry."
He rolled the window up, clenched the offending hand into a fist, and shoved it into his pocket.
"Starve it, huh? I hadn't thought of that. You're pretty smart, then? Ooh, so in your li...libary...library, god, I hate that word...I want to be looking up containment...excellent."

"I'm a professor of more than English," he answered cryptically. 'Of course I'm smart,' was left unstated, but it was obvious in his tone.

"That is assuming you have the proper knowledge to put a containment spell in place... Which I doubt you do, considering your age and your lack of education."

"I'm nineteen and all I've got is a high school diploma, and you can leave it the fuck alone, all right? Some of us dumbfucks just aren't meant for higher education."
He was having a hard fight to keep from fidgeting again, but he was winning for the moment.
"Um...yeah. I don't know anything about any kind of spells, actually. I could learn, I bet. But wouldn't it be easier to just shoot myself? I figure that would pretty much take care of my demon problem."

"I suppose it would be easier for you, but in that case, the demon would likely simply seek out another host. But that is another issue."

He made a left turn, heading towards campus by a slightly longer route. He wanted to keep asking questions of this boy before he let him loose amid his precious books...

"In the case of your magical abilities, that is not necessarily a stumbling block. Even if you cannot work the spell yourself, there are a number of mages in the city who could manage it for you. Myself, for one."

Odd, that he was talking to this boy as easily as he spoke to his own colleagues... or perhaps more like one of his magical students.