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Post by Adrien Fontaine on Apr 12, 2007 8:50:56 GMT 7
He'd heard all the horror stories of the librarian, and usually avoided the library at all costs because of it. The internet, Wikipedia (it's in a class all it's own, alright), and the public library were all options to be exhausted before the University library. All because of her. Was it even a her? Adrien felt safer calling the librarian an it, the wrinkling mass of flesh seemed devoid of gender these days.
Casually walking around the metal detector at the entrance of the library, after all they were in New Jersey no matter how rich the area was, Adrien held onto his cup of Dunkin' Donuts delicious-ness for dear life.
Catching the old...things eyes as the librarian opened her mouth to make a comment about the presence of caffeine around the oh-so precious books Adrien beat her to the punch.
"I'm keeping my coffee or so help me god I'll give you cancer." The comment was curt, and didn't even sound impolite. After all he was a Med student... he could give someone cancer couldn't he? Probably do some sick thing like backwards chemotherapy.
Smirking to himself as the old hag started opening and closing her mouth like a fish, utterly stunned, Adrien moved to the Reference section and started pulling out books on a whim.
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Post by Devon O'Toole on Apr 12, 2007 9:25:46 GMT 7
Devon O'Toole was the jackass who was 'hijacking' tricycles all over suburban New Jersey. He was not a student at Rutherford University. He wasn't a student anywhere for that matter, and if there was one place he didn't belong it was in a student library. He was none other than Mr. What-the-fuck-are-you-doing-here himself. He was the man who thought it was a novel idea to attach an upwards for twenty or so balloons to a stolen Denny's high chair, strap a cat inside and fling it off the roof of an eight story building.
A destroyed high chair and missing cat later, he claimed it was a flying machine. Everything is a flying machine though, when you're Devon O'Toole. An underaged Asian bride and twenty-thousand dollars in debt, you don't see things as anything other than flying machines. But that's another story entirely. He was leaning over the reference bookshelf, shaking a bottle of prescription medication. As far as the naked eye could see it was prescription, that was. A few pills were left, maybe two or three.
"What were these?" (rusty )
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Post by Adrien Fontaine on Apr 12, 2007 9:34:32 GMT 7
Adrien didn't even have to look up, he recognized that drugged up tone of voice all to well. The two were acquaintances, friends even if you would go so far to call a budding doctor and a drug addict friends. More correctly friends when necessity arouse. Devon provided an interesting test subject, and Adrien could save Devon's ass if he ever od'ed. It was mutual benefit.
Without looking up his hand reached up, thumb and forefinger, and took the bottle shaking it again just for the hell of it. His free hand flipped a few more pages in the book in front of him, opening to the word "syphilis" in very large print. Syphilis was such a funny word.
Finally looking up at the label on the prescription bottle, Adrien diverted his gave to Devon and his limbs.. which he was not missing. "This is a painkiller... for amputees." He emphasized the amputee part slightly, trying to get acrossed the strength of the pills.
"Who did you kill for these?" It was hard to tell if he was joking.
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