(no subject)
It's days like this that Schanke misses smoking. It's not like they could kill him at this point, right? He doesn't really want a ciggy; it's just something to do with his hands. He's bored and fidgety and no closer to figuring out a way to leave than he was when he first started looking. He'd read through any book in the library that might have held some clues, but found nothing. He found a second library, but it's been locked every time he's checked.
There's not even any way of telling if any of the people down here could be helpful. I mean, if Nick -- Nick! -- could be a freaking vampire right under his nose for two years, then any of these bargoers could be damn near anything you can imagine. Or they could just be regular Joes like him who would look at him like a crazy person if he asked, 'oh, by the way, you wouldn't happen to know how I could go back to the world I died in for a few days, would you?'
So, fidgety cop atta bar with coffee and donuts (sorry, Myra, the bran muffins stopped about the same time as the heart did).
There's not even any way of telling if any of the people down here could be helpful. I mean, if Nick -- Nick! -- could be a freaking vampire right under his nose for two years, then any of these bargoers could be damn near anything you can imagine. Or they could just be regular Joes like him who would look at him like a crazy person if he asked, 'oh, by the way, you wouldn't happen to know how I could go back to the world I died in for a few days, would you?'
So, fidgety cop atta bar with coffee and donuts (sorry, Myra, the bran muffins stopped about the same time as the heart did).