Fitz had never seen so many books in one place before. Looking at the rows books he felt a weird sensation, not excitement from being in the vicinity of so many books... something else. Anxiety? That was the most probable explanation. After all, it wasn't everyday that Fitz went on hunts for spell books.

Wearing a lime green T-Shirt and dark jeans, he wanted to look inconspicuous but he didn't feel it, all he felt was missing was the large glasses and a grey mac.

Approaching the desk had been easy enough, now came the hard part. Did he ask for books on magic or Wicca traditions? What if the shop keeper thought he meant... David Blaine magic? Fitz drummed his fingers on the oak counter and looked around the shop; there were no signs that said 'spell books are located here.' Not that he really expected it to, but that did give him an idea. Maybe it would be best if he looked on his own, not to arouse any suspicions and awkward questions.

He headed for the row directly in front of him and found what he assumed was the cooking aisle. The books were mostly new books with a few oldies stashed in there.

Two aisles, and a couple of sneezing fits later and things began to look interesting. He didn't see any books on resurrection or pagan sacrifices but he did find a nifty little book on astronomy. Fitz sat on the floor and began to peruse the slightly battered book.

((Sorry it's not very good. I got a mind block. Sorry!))

The desk was piled high with…well…this is a book store. What do you expect is piled on the front desk, idiot?

The clerk was missing and oddly so were all of the other employees. This would be because very few people wanted to work with her and she instisted that she could pull a full shift without anyone else’s help anyways. The reason no one else wanted to work with her was apparent in the way she moved, the way she spoke, and the way she overall behaved. She isn’t vicious, not really mean, she’s just aggressive to the point of becoming overwhelming. She isn’t a snake, she’s a caged tiger.

The bell over the door served it’s purpose, ringing out loudly into the quite bookstore, announcing his presence to her even in the back room. She took her time.

Finishing the brushstrokes she had been working with, Vaux dropped the paint brush into the container of warm, soapy water and picked up a towel, heading, none too quietly, for the door that would bring her into the front of the store. Wiping her hands on the rag, smearing green paint over its clean white surface, her gaze swept the store.

Her choice in clothing was no less inviting in a work environment then her tightly wound personality. Vaux’s pants are the typical flair-leg jeans that are making a come back. They are light in color, exaggerating the dark spots of black and green paint clinging to them, as well as older spots of fading gray paint. They hang loose on her, as though they are a size too big, and sit low on sharp hipbones. Both knees are ripped out, showing pale knees, one with a small scar on the cap. Her tee shirt is too snug, clinging to her flat belly, her full breasts, the indent below her rib cage. The sleeves have been cut at the seams and the neckline was cut out and frayed. It left an inch of pale skin exposed between it’s him and the waist of her pants. A two-row pyramid belt ran through the loops of the jeans, a splash of black words with an exaggerated brush stroke pattern spelled out the words “Jacobson’s! You want it, we got it!” with a maroon book lying open painted in behind it. The tee itself was a light tan. Her were heavy black boots.

Her hair was gelled into messy spikes, the white blonde contrasting with dark eyebrows. Black charcoal liner was penciled around her striking blue eyes, her ears bore three silver loops in the left ear and three dangling dragonflies in the right lobe and a small diamond stud in the cartilage. She was chewing a piece of gum, blowing a watermelon flavor ‘bubblelicious’ bubble as she began forward, walking past the isles in search of this elusive customer.

Finally, she found him. She stopped at the end of the isle, put her hands on her hips, one holding the rag still, and letting the bubble pop with a loud smack! to demand attention. “Can I help you?”

The astronomy book hadn't been that much help, but judging by the amount of books in this aisle alone, he knew it would be a matter of just stumbling across the right books. Assuming they had them of course.

Allie stood to put the book back approximately somewhere near where he found it, not trying to hard to find it. "I bet if they colour co-ordinated the types of book into sections, they wouldn't have this problem." He muttered softly as he brushed his dusty hands on his dark jeans. He felt swamped, by the vast amount of books, this was the reason he didn't visit the library...at all, ever. This was simply a case of what people called, 'Too much of a good thing.'

The steps were slow, but regular. Fitz guessed this was the elusive storekeeper, boy was he right. For a start, she looked pissed off. Maybe this was her break or something? His reverie was cut short by the sharp smack of her gum. Fitz quelled his urge to roll his eyes at the sight of the disgruntled...worker. In his opinion, she should be grateful for any customers she did get as this place wasn't exactly heaving with life, was it?

Deciding that is was best to be polite. He flashed her a smile, the kind of smile he reserved for people he pissed off or people he wanted to impress.

Taking her cue Fitz replied. "Well, madam, I came into your shop, looking for a certain type of book." Fitz stopped. Choosing the right terminology was vital; he didn’t want to seem loopy or silly. "I’m looking for a spell book. Like, um, you know. Magic books, real magic." A blush had found its way to his cheeks; this was going to be one hell of a conversation.

She’d heard his muttered: I bet if they colour co-ordinated the types of book into sections, they wouldn't have this problem. It had been faint but she had heard.

When he replied to her question she marched forward, the same easy but heavy foot falls of the solid boots. When she reached him, her eyes swept the isle and then narrowed, zeroing in on the misplaced book. “They aren’t color coded because some authors do choose different colors for their covers,” she replied in a sharp tone, removing the book from where it had been wedged. “They’re alphabetized very practically by alphabetical order, as any well adjusted, learned person would know,” she said, clearly defending her store with pride. She didn’t own the place but it was her place, her retreat, her income, her lifeline. Hers. She re-shelved the book.

His smile was phony, it fooled no one, of that she’s sure. She ignored it, her face remaining fixed with a vague sense of annoyance and impatience around the edges. She’s smaller then him but what radiated out of her demanded attention and respect, screamed authority.

“Spell book,” she asked, sounding almost skeptical. She didn’t, however, sound surprised or look taken aback. She crossed her arms over her ribs, her chest just slightly too large for crossing her arms over it to be comfortable, cocked a leg, and managed to look bored and superior. “What spell book are you looking for, exactly? Summoning seems to be a popular topic this year,” it should have been sarcastic but it wasn’t, she was completely serious. “A particular author you had in mind?” She unfolds her arms and begins walking down the isle, turning a corner, assuming that he would just follow her without question.

Fitz didn't realise that he had issues with whispering. Either that or she was superhumanly adept at hearing muttered conversations. Barely suppressing a snort, Fitz listened to what the lady had to say, nodding at the appropriate times. When she did finally finish, a good five minutes to be fairly accurate, he held up his hands in mock defeat and spoke, fairly sure that he was permitted to. " I apologise about that. I didn't realise that you heard me." It was almost as if this was her life or something.

This lady was certainly full of surprises. She didn't batter an eyelid at his question; as if this was common place knowledge. Instead she just let her arrogance ooze out even more.

He hadn't been expecting her response either. In actual fact he had not been looking for a specific book, like summoning, as the bookkeeper had suggested. Fitz decided to just follow her as she stalked off round the corner; unsure whether or not the question was rhetorical.

But he answered anyway. Just for good measure.

" Yeah, summoning sounds good. Thanks."

Where he barely suppressed a snort she did not. “You aren’t sorry,” she said, not looking over her shoulder at him. “You would not have done it in the first place.” It’s a theory. If you do it then you meant to do it. Simple as that. When you’re sorry the you are only sorry that you got caught. She finally reached an isle and slipped down it, making her way half way down before rounding and putting her hands on her narrow hips.

“Summoning what?” She sounded exasperated that he didn’t seem to understand this need for specification. Really, she didn’t need specifics. She had showed him to the summoning books and that should really just be that but she’s curious. “Gods? Demons?” she tossed the suggestions out, then with a nearly sly look she added sarcastically, “the apocalypse?”

The did almost smile, a barest upward twitch of the corner of her lips, when he said thank you. “You’re welcome.” It’s the first non-aggressive thing to leave her lips so far.

School wasn't this repetitive was it? Fitz merely stared at the his 'helper', his smile neither faltering nor getting bigger as he received yet another verbal beat down from a lady he didn't even know the first name of. The sheer audacity of it!

"Yeah. I’m going to be summoning stuff" The young man stated quite bluntly, placing particular emphasis, but then he leaned a bit closer towards the lady and said in a mock stage whisper. "I was planning to summon... The Tooth Fairy. Yes THE Tooth Fairy, I’m planning to put those rumours about he being false to bed you see."

Fitz hoped the aggressive lady followed his sarcasm, as he was after all being sarcastic. His plans were merely on improving his summoning abilities, maybe summon a couple of Gods but he figured he may need help with that one but the bookshop worker didn't need to know this.

"Thank you for showing me where the books are." Fitz held out his hand to her. "My name is Fitz."

“Stuff.” She raised her eyebrow, fixed him with her blue gaze. She snorted at his sarcasm. “Good like finding ‘tooth faerie’ in there then,” she said, waving her hand at the isle. The books were as well organized as the rest of the stores shelves but this shelf didn’t contain typical paperback books or hard covers with silly plastic jackets. It wasn’t organized by author either. Some of the books on the shelf were tall and old and noble, some of them small, thin, and so worn that the seam had been stitched back together. Some were leather, some were newer, some were all paper, missing a binding and cover at all, held together by modern paper rings. Most of them didn’t have any writing along the spine to tell you what they were at all, those that did were usually in peeling gold letters.

She regarded his hand with something like caution, as though he might grab her, then held up her own hand producing the paint spatters into his vision. “Bit of a mess, I’m afraid.” Smile, though it wasn’t exactly friendly it was warm.

She stepped back away from him and crossed her arms over her ribs again. “I’m Vaux,” her name tag read ‘Sammy’, “If you need anymore help I’ll be around.” She rolled off the line as if she’d done it a thousand times before. She didn’t, however, turn and start to leave. She’s interested to know what exactly he’s looking for. Instead of leaving she took the paint rag from where it was hanging out of her pocket, found the clean side, walked half way down the isle, and pretended to dust the shelf.

Fitz watched as the pretty mess named Vaux/ Sammy dusted the shelves. It seemed that not only was she a know-it-all, she was also a busy body, she was dying to know what he was up to, but also keeping an air of indiginance about it. This was hilarious in Fitz' opinion; this was almost a twisted game of playing hard to get.

Fitz wondered if she knew more than she was letting on, thinking back to her previous questions about summoning. He dropped that idea rather quickly. He just assumed she knew the terms due to the fact that she worked in a shop that has several aisles on occult; she probably had more than enough time to peruse at her leisure between customers. Tracing his index along the spines of the miss matching he came across a fairly new book, probably 20 years old. 'The Arts' was written vertically along the spine in gold letters. The book had several topics, including summoning and glamouring but the first area that he looked up was rituals.

The rituals were fairly simple, most were included with incantations and some were more dependant on gestures, timing and the ingredients. Fitz was taken aback, not only down to the fact that doing a spell wrong could havoc into your everyday life, not only your...magical life, but the fact that he was freaking beginner, summoning objects was one thing but summoning gods was another. Fitz turned to the still dusting Vaux and showed her the page he was looking at, which had a small pentagram on it, and stated, "D'you reckon a novice could pull this off?" He said it in a matter of factly way, as if he did indeed want her opinion. Which he did. He figured that she would have at least a tiny nugget of information for him.

Hard to get is Vaux’s specialty. Especially when it promised to be bloody and a game of will power.

Vaux continued to dust the shelf and managed to know exactly what he was doing without actually looking at him. She took a book from the shelf and replaced it two shelves higher and a few books to the right, a scowl settling on her defined features. When he spoke, she turned slowly, giving him a half annoyed ‘are you still here?’ sort of expression, but when he showed her the book she did walk towards him to have a better look at the indicated page.

She glanced at it, then him, then took a longer gaze at the pages, then made a skeptic sound. “Sure, if he wants to wined up with wings and turn into a giant bat every third weekend.” She shook her head and returned to dusting the shelf right beside him. “Why? Looking into doing a little finger waggling and potion brewing yourself?”



OOC: it's crap but my excuse is that I'v been driving all day.

(( Tis' Cool, this one is not much better.))

Fitz turned back to the book, flipping the pages with a bit of haste. He was in half a mind about whether Vaux was serious about the spell, but he decided to take her word on it.

"Well' I dunno about finger wagging. Its more about general hand and arm movement." Fitz waved his free arm in a dramatic motion. "And I don't really see why I would do potions when I can hardly cook, well I can cook. I just find it boring."

He had the habit of digging himself into chasms, maybe he could find a ritual to fix that or something.

Magic didn't seem that simple now, looking at the rituals. Fitz had expected it to be... well, simpler than this, but he decided it was probably best that if he was going to conquer the world of the arts he should probably get a simpler ritual and maybe some help. Fitz closed the book and handed it to Vaux; it was obvious that she wasn’t working as that wasn't the only shelf to dust was in the entire shop now was it?

"Madam, maybe if you could find me a good, easy spell to do, I will most probably buy this book. What do you say, huh?"

In retrospect Fitz would have spotted the arrogance in that statement, but he was too far gone now, he’d said it already.

She snorted when he replied to her comment about finger wagging. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s the same damn thing.” She really should learn not to swear at her customers. She leaned across and took the book right out of his hands, leafing through it with her thumb. “And what makes you think I would know what was and easy spell? Do you think I really believe in all of this silliness?”

As she leafed through the book she walked down the isle to the main isle, then down this one to the front cash register, simply expecting him to follow. When she finally reached it, she dropped the book on the counter with a thud, so confident that she could find just the right spell that she knew he would by the book and had taken him to the cash register without his confirmation. She pointed to a page.

“This one.” The page was only half filled with words and pictures. The spell was one for levitating this very book. “And after that, that one,” she pointed to the next page. This spell was a more advanced spell. The first was teaching you how to levitate a solid item, the second was how to levitate water, as if rapidly evaporating it. “That will be fifteen sixty two. Would you like it in a bag?” She hadn’t rang it up yet but knew already how much it would cost.

"Yes. I do believe that you are interested in this stuff." Gesturing casually towards the books that surrounded them, he carried on. "The way that, you know so much about this particular subject. I bet if I were to ask you about nouvelle cuisine you wouldn't have half as much to say. But that's just me of course."

Fitz finished just as they reached the sales counter and listened as Vaux gave descriptions of the novice spells, some of them sounding interesting, to a degree. They all just sounded so easy for crying out loud.

Sighing heavily, he rummaged in his wallet for a twenty, he wanted change for fags. Although he'd given up less than twelve hours ago he planned to give up as soon as he'd finished his latest pack. He was sure of it.

"Hey. Seeing as you are so 'Hermione Granger' on the subject of magic, maybe we can meet up outside of this shop, you leaving your animosity towards moi in this shop and join me for coffee and magic sometime." Fitz handed her the twenty. "What do you say?"


((I thought it would be a good way to advance the plot, k?))