<div class="floatleft">(http://i1264.photobucket.com/albums/jj499/MzHyde/UmbrellaSmall1_zpsa6c08b10.png)</div><strong>Jack The Ripper</strong><br/><strong>Union HQ, Level 1</strong><br/><br/>Jack waved dismissively at Gavin over her shoulder, "They're bloody books, not priceless gems. Books're meant to be enjoyed an' a sign of a well-loved book is wear an' tear. Can bloomin' tell nobody's cracked one o' these before. Spine's still all straight, innit? That's the shame right there. Besides, like I said; all terrible. Twenty Thousand Snore-Worthy Leagues Under The Bloomin' Sea! Pfff! It's seven 'undred pages of a Frenchie faffin' on about lookin' at fish!"<br/><br/>She held the book at arms length, nose wrinkled for a moment before dropping it to the floor with a thump.<br/><br/>"Jules Verne. He was a vampire, y'know. You can always tell with the writin' style. Terribly borin an' droll. Lotsa meaninless details 'cause the undead 'ave nothin' to do but look observe things 'alf the time." Jack spun on her heel to face the others in the room, a little grin on her lips, exposing her fangs.<br/><br/>"Conan Doyle, though, now there was a right lovely chap. Him an' I used to head down to the old rub a dub an' get knackered! Man could rabbit on fer ages when he'd had a shot of the 'ol Dutch courage in 'im. Always talkin' 'bout his stories, stories, stories. Tried like 'ell to get somethin' good out an' when he finally does he can't escape it. Poor bastard."<br/><br/>Her smile turns down into a little contemplative frown as she turns back to the shelf. She reaches up and pulls down The Hound of The Baskervilles. Wistfully, the half-vampire flips through the un-read book, spine still stiff and pages still crisp. There's probably still a price tag on the back of it. She sighs a little bit and carefully places it back on the shelf.