As expected, Adrian makes his presence known with a simple elegance and brown eyes raise themselves, clear and congenial enough as he stands, watching the feline rejoin the blond.

"Adrian," he nods, and does in fact follow, without question even. This sort of following has gotten him into trouble in the past, but in that past he had none of his own real memory and identity, so that can hardly be compared with this---this being merely a walk with a person who spent an absurd amount on a fundraiser for a summer play. From what little he can tell, the older man doesn't look tired, seems as alert and awake as ever, that careful quiet settled around him like a well tailored suit. Peter doesn't doubt he can turn that quiet and twist it to something else if he wants, but for the most part this has been Adrian's general projection so far, in his own presence at least, and that is what he goes by now.

Unlike with others, Peter does not try for basic pleasantry, not with this man. He not only feels it unnecessary, but maybe, for reasons and words beyond his preferred scope, a little ridiculous. If he thinks of something relevant to say that isn't as common as 'how are you' he'll say it, but for the moment he holds his own silence as comfortably as he places his hands in the pockets of black jeans, both qualifying as thoughtless motions, but somehow not inconsiderate.

It would be far more fitting if Adrian was wearing a tailored suit. He isn't. A good midnight purple button down shirt over black pants and under a black jacket will do. To Adrian this is considered casual, he may as well be running errands and stopping by the corner drugstore on his way home. Presentation is a combination of appearance and attitude, mostly the latter. Notice how the cat's very purple fur doesn't stick to the fabric either? What an anomaly, one he won't be explaining anytime soon. Her steps fall behind voluntarily so that Bubastis is following after both of them.

Although Adrian doesn't offer Peter any typical congenial pleasantries he does give him a smile. Its sincerity can be called into question, but he knows Peter won't do that, at least not aloud.

"What do you think we'll be reading tonight--today, I should say," he clarifies over his shoulder to the brunette. They pass shelves of books on the right and rows of tables and desks for studying on the left. There's a hub of network devices between each set of tables for people who prefer to do their work digitally. Adrian amounts this to laziness when convenience begins to eclipse efficiency. How can anyone say they've checked the entire system for a book if they don't go looking through every single shelf?

That call on marked efficiency or laziness applies even more so here, where a book can go missing in the half blink of an eye, and by the time one has opened his eyes fully again, it might not be the book alone that has displaced itself but the entire section. The librarians are forever dealing with the changes and had a certain enchanter and his hapless friend in the City any knowledge of this they might take up camp here, feeling right at home with things disappearing one place and reappearing another. Peter isn't one of these people of course, and when he goes looking for a volume he prefers to find it where it ought to be, but not doing so isn't enough to turn him away, and he is the type to spend an inordinate amount of time scouring shelves manually if need be.

That all said, he has no idea what they might be putting eye to tonight and he shrugs, not needing to impress, not worrying, and bordering on something that is stupidly open---honest, some call it, but it's more than that, a candor of the face and the posture.

"Did you have anything in mind?" he replies, a question for a question and an answer in its own way as he glances down at the cat, tilting his head a little. Her loyalty is all but worn around her neck, and more obvious too, but in an endearing way---to him, at least.

"We're looking for records," he says to Peter, casually. "Articles, papers, magazines, anything," Adrian explains.

He stops at a desk and draws his fingertips across the surface like it might be an antique, which it isn't. There is something else delicate here, something unseen and unspoken. Adrian of course says nothing of it. Bubastis stops to settle on her haunches again, next to Peter who she hopes might scratch her again. There's a purring once more and her tail flicks to brush against the back of his leg.

"Jon Osterman. Did you know him? He was here for a time, now he's gone. That's not abnormal, not for this world. I want to know if this place took his writing with him. We wrote a lot together." He pauses, then continues. "He also went by the name Dr. Manhattan, a physicist under all that blue." Then, after another thought, "Under the Hood. It's a book by Hollis Mason."

Green-blue eyes lift to look at Peter again. This needs no explanation, does it?

Different libraries have different ways of organizing, or in this one's case, attempting to organize. Listening to Adrian, Peter pays no attention to the desk or the fingertips trailing across it, but he does pay attention to the cat whose tail prompts him to kneel again, open with the fact that he thinks she's cute--evident on his face--and accommodating her by scratching behind her hears again. Glancing up and over at the blond, he shakes his head at the reference to the man called Jon Osterman, but the name sounds familiar in spite of that. Possibly he passed him on the network once or twice, but that could be said of almost any combination of people in this place, however short or long their time here is.

"More records," he assumes from the lack of a change of categorization and his eyes flicker to Bubastis again before returning to the rest of the company. "I'm never sure of how to find things here. A couple of times it's given me exactly what I was looking for and other times it only worked because I tried thinking of the opposite of what I wanted," he pauses, a light echo of a laugh on the edge of his voice. In short, he tried to trick the library, and whether or not it worked or the library just let him have it, there is no way of knowing, but he did get what he was looking for each time, one way or another. Supposedly they should try the stacks just a few short rows down, but things are scattered as ever here and to be absolutely sure it isn't here they would have to search unforgivably---not just every floor, but every shelf and non-shelf on every floor. It's a little daunting, but they do have a full 24 hours, and then some, knowing Peter.

Were his interest in tricking the library this would be a dilemma. They're both fortunate it isn't, but Peter Petrelli doesn't need to know that. As far as Adrian is concerned, he won't know at all.

"Clever," he compliments. It's genuine... genuinely an A for effort but none of this leaks into his tone or his expression. "That's why we're two men on the task with twenty-four hours to spare. It's not catastrophic if we don't find it, but it'd be very good to have," Adrian explains without really explaining. Briefly he wonders if Peter will notice that too. Whether he does or not he doubts the other man will actually call the relativity of goodness into question. Why the book is good and why the book is good to have are two very separate things even if the answer is the same; memories. Has he looked for it before? Well, leave that question for another time. After glancing to his wrist watch to check the time he nods to Peter. "I hope you brought one. If not, the network should be synchronized," he says then pauses, eyes on the tall man which shift to the tall cat, "take Bubastis with you. If you don't mind her."

He knows Peter doesn't. The feline seems to smile at this suggestion, her head leaning further against the man's hand.

Five floors--though up or down is anyone's guess at this point--Peter and his new friend--the purple furred Bubastis--find themselves traveling down an aisle he could swear he's looked in not moments before, but apparently not as the spines are all different and even the shelves seem to warp when he turns his head this way or that. Then again, maybe they did check this one and it has just made the shift so wholly that they are unable to tell for certain--a more likely thing in this place than any other he knows of. Flying would come in handy, but instead he pets Bubastis briefly on the head before teleporting to the top of the ladder nearest him, leaning on it to send it rolling to one side, eying the volumes as he goes by.

"Why does he want this book?" he asks the cat, not expecting an answer back but curious enough to ask someone. At this point he is starting to believe maybe it doesn't exist, but the library is good at sending one in circles so he bites his lower lip as, reaching the end of the shelf, he teleports back down, reaching to pet the feline again before beginning to search all the shelves he can reach without aid of the ladder. Pulling out one books, the dust is nearly an inch thick and he sneezes, head going forward fast enough to hit it on the bookshelf edge. He curses under his breath but blinks at the remaining dust on said shelf. A book behind a book? He's seen this before, plenty of times, but he's always surprised by it. Left hand digging in, he pulls out the red binding, and lo.

"We have a winner," he smiles at the cat and he then deems it earned enough to crouch down and scratch behind her ears, stroking down her spine the proper direction so as not to upset her fur. He spends a while at this before standing again and rounding the nearest end's corner. It seems inappropriate to yell in a library, no matter the weirdness, so he only glances around, wondering if Adrian is even on the same floor as he is anymore.

If the cat could talk... Well, they should all be glad Bubastis isn't a Talking Cat, Adrian most of all. For his question she only flicks an ear, narrowed eyes too focused on the environment for any minor twitches that might suggest the presence of prey. She does purr, something low and rumbling like that of a tiger or even a lion. Does that answer his question? No probably not, but it does sound charming doesn't it?

When Peter celebrates his discovery Bubastis only smiles as a cat can which looks near mischievous but she has no mischief in mind. She's a lady, after all.

On the handler side of things, check your pocket, Peter.

10 minutes, center staircase

Periodically Adrian has called for meets, just to cover any areas they've been through. It's always best to do these in person, he hasn't come to fully rely on digital communication for everything. He probably never will. By now it's late morning, nearing noon as a matter of fact. Twelve hours of his purchase time has been spent. Adrian, waiting at the very top step of the second floor intends to use all of it, even if the remaining hours are coffee and cigarettes. Except he doesn't suspect Peter smokes, Adrian on the other hand quit (smoking in public) as part of his image.

Okay.

He could as easily be there immediately, with Bubastis, but he sees no point, having plenty of time to get there, so he just walks because despite convenience of powers like teleportation or flight, he will always appreciate being able to walk on his own two feet---and sometimes the ability to run, because they seem to be doing a lot of that lately. When he reaches the appointed spot he realizes he didn't mention having found the book, but he figures it doesn't matter. Meeting Adrian here, he can simply give the man the book, and that cuts out the redundancy factor, if anything.

With no one else in sight at the moment, Peter doesn't hesitate to sit on one of the lower steps of the staircase, petting Bubastis and glancing around, trying above all not to look like a man who has things to look out for. Sylar, their biggest in-City threat, seems to have disappeared, according to the Hall of the Missing---something he only found upon trying to speak with him again only to find an empty shop. Figures.

Even though they have been at their search for so long, even though sleep should be something he craves, he realizes he is quite fine, alert even, and he thinks to attribute it to good company, which he manifests in more fervent scratching and petting, as well as a softer, curious smile. It is not known to him if the buyer planned for the entire day, not knowing his schedule to begin with, but even if he did know, it is extremely unlikely he would do anything to refuse. The man did pay after all, and all of that.

What an admirable notion. Were they ever to discuss it Adrian might even say this aloud. And then following that, Adrian already believes Peter would resort to this other abilities if the situation called for it. Just like Dan. The problem with Dan is he can't tell the future. He can't deduce the next move fast enough. Not even Rorschach can do that. Basing this on how quickly (or slowly) they unraveled his master stroke is a little unfair, but just as things are touch-and-go for men like them, so too are their enemies. You never know who's going to be unfair. You never know who's going to fight dirty. And you never know who'd going to hide in plain sight for years before he moves. They do have potential though, more than just what a good shave or the loss of several pounds might imply.

Bubastis takes it upon herself not only to just sit on the steps with Peter but to stretch out and lay her head against his thigh. You see, laying her heard in his lap would be too forward. Adrian lets this continue for some time, until their ten minutes are up on the dot.

"Peter," the blond calls from the top of the steps. It isn't shouting in a library. His voice remains slight for a place of silence yet firm and commanding in tone. It's the easiest way to be heard without resorting to a yell. He could have texted too but why bother? Pure human contact is essential to any relationship. His shoes make the softest sounds on the stairs as he approaches the pair. "Get up, girl," he says to the cat, less firm. She does as ordered without protest or even a pause of reluctance.

"I covered three more rooms on the second floor and I have nothing," Adrian admits casually.

Though he has long outgrown the sort of childlike seeking for approval, he stands up as though he hasn't. The smile he sends Adrian's way is quite genuine but some of it is residual from paying attention to the cat and some of it partially due to thoughts a million miles from here. It is the understated kind of brilliance of an upward turned mouth that has the sentiment reaching out through the eyes and the most charming part of this type of expression is that these days, Peter doesn't know when he's making it. He could be conversing with his closest friend; that is the type of smile it is, even if it has nothing actually to do with Adrian himself, and that is the trick of it, in a way.

"Something," he replies only to the 'nothing' with a mildly amused look that bleeds into the first one as he hands the book forward. It didn't occur to him to look through it, mostly because at least on a few base levels, he has no reason to distrust the contents or the usage. Finding it at all was enough for him. Funny, he thinks absently, that this book was completely dust free despite being behind another one that was all but swallowed in it. "Anything else?" he asks eventually, no hint of a rush here, only curiosity.

Adrian folds his arms loosely across his chest. He knows that smile, not the way it comes from Peter Petrelli but the type it is. There are traces of optimism and idealism in it. There's a pinch of wanting to learn and in turn use that teaching to help others. And underneath it all there's a natural desire to simply be. The smile is infectious and once, long ago, that was a good thing. He used to make that smile in his youth. Now he finds it endearing but for Peter's sake--no, his own sake--Adrian returns an expression that has detected amusement, not a willingness to prove himself. This is neither right nor wrong, but it does entertain. His own smile is curious, wanting to know why Peter is smiling but he has a fairly good idea when he replies something to nothing. That search worked after all.

He takes the book in his hand and allows a look of skepticism to creep into his features. It's a healthy amount. Did he look through the book? No, Adrian thinks just based on the smile alone, good boy. Thumbing through the pages cancels his skepticism out completely.

"You found it," is the obvious statement. His tone of surprise puts weight in the discovery itself, otherwise how else will Peter know that Adrian is pleased? "Congratulations," his smile at the brunette widens. He shakes his head, "no. This was it. Jon's work can wait another day."

"Okay," he pauses, not quite shifting from foot to foot but the automatic tendency to is something he stands down on the soles of his feet harder against before kneeling again to pay attention to Bubastis, scratching behind her ears and then under her chin, unafraid, if by combination of trusting her and trusting Adrian not to let her have a wilder moment and strike--not that he couldn't avoid something he saw coming, but he has the feeling he might very well not see it coming, a compliment to Bubastis perhaps on speed and strength. Not the whole of the day has been spent and he remains wide awake--a useful sort of resilience for fugitives, or so television and cinema tell him, as well as logic, all of which might come into play more tangled and warped than he prefers when he goes home, but that is a while away...isn't it? Well, they never do know, and in truth he would rather go home and take care of things before trying to make other such related things work here, but as it's out of his hands, he tries to make do with what he has.

Right now, what he has is approximately eleven and something hours left of paid time with Adrian Veidt, and glancing up, his eyes make a pass over the book once before moving up to the other man's face. He arches a brow just the slightest bit, not pronounced but enough that even if he didn't say anything, the question would be obvious, if it wasn't already.

"So what now?"