<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Wil's Post</div><div class="spoiler_body"><hr/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Addicted to that old Book Smell</strong></span></div><hr/><div class="floatright">(http://img1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20131031203615/challens-original-character/images/f/f9/Emily_bett_rickards.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Wilhelmina "Wil" Holms<br/><strong>Sortment:</strong> Graduate Student<br/><strong>Mood:</strong> Calm, quiet, centered<br/><strong>Clothes:</strong> black tee, jeans, sneakers and a hoodie. <br/><strong>Tag:</strong> Wyatt Callo<strong><em>[Closed]</em></strong><br/><strong>Location; Date and time:</strong> Second floor stacks, library  October 4, 10:00 PM<br/><hr/><br/>When he looked up she grinned a little.  He was kind of a handsome guy, in that geeky sort of way she found relatable and not intimidating.  Of course she had trouble talking to anyone new.  She was just a socially awkward panda and had accepted that ages ago.  All the study of human behavior in the world wasn't going to help her!  "Well hopefully you're not drooling on the library journals." She wrinkled her nose.  Now she kind of never wanted to touch another library volume in her life.  It wasn't like she could just head down to the local book store and pick up a single copy of the journal she needed though.  Such a dilemma.  <br/><br/>She slender grad student slipped past him, only to turn not far from him and look at the EJELLS volumes.  As her eyes scanned them she frowned.  "Great.  The one I need isn't here."  Which meant someone else probably had it and didn't bother to put it back in the right place.  And it could be anywhere.  Inconsiderate jerk.  She sighed.  Her eyes swept back to her fellow student and caught just enough of the spine of his journal to see it was also one of the EJELLS volumes.  No.  Couldn't be.  Could it?  The odds someone else needed the exact journal she did and stood right in front of her holding it were...astronomical.  "You're not holding volume three issue six by any chance, are you?" Her head cocked to the side in a quizzical expression. <br/><br/>As soon as she asked the question a plan formed in her mind for how to solve the next dilemma.  If they both needed the same issue she could just make a photocopy of her article.  She'd planned to do that anyway after she read through it once so she could highlight important passages and makes notes.  Not to mention she'd need to cross reference it with other sources including the ones cited in the article itself.  </div></div><br/><br/><hr/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Addicted to that old Book Smell</strong></span></div><hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/DcLnexj.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Wyatt Gallo<br/><strong>Sortment:</strong>Postgrad<br/><strong>Date and Time:</strong>October 4, 10:15 p.m.<br/><strong>Location: </strong>2nd floor stacks<br/><strong>Mood:</strong>Stepping into some new social ineptness<br/><strong>Tag:</strong>Wil Holmes<em><strong> [closed]</strong></em><hr/><br/>Wyatt face turned into an embarrassed scowl as he admonished himself. His joke had meant to be droll but all that came of it was a soggy feeling hanging in the air between himself and this fetching lady who seemed to have his same excellent taste for reference materials. This was the second woman in short order that he had gave cause to remark critically on his approach to things. Was he this awkward as an undergrad? His speculative nature guessed yes, his youth had just made him more oblivious to it.<br/><br/>Deciding to allow her to try and forget his sad attempt at conversation without further reminders, he said nothing more started thumbing through the book. It only took a moment before he heard her exclamation.<em>Oh, great! </em>And he had also taken her needed journal! This was turning into a complete blunder of a week. He would have to go home and write about it. Often life's mishaps became comedic gold in the writing world, yes? If so he was destined to make millions. "As a matter of fact, yes it is." Wyatt slipped the crumbled sticky note in the middle of the page he was on and held up the cover as if either one of them needed further proof to be sure.<br/><br/>"You know..." He was about to admit something else nerdy and embarrassing to this complete stranger, but why stop while he was sorely deep in it now? "I actually printed the digital copy before I headed here so.." He stretched his long arm out (which gave away the fact that the sleeves of his overcoat were ever so short for his lanky frame) to pass the book to her. "it's all yours. Honestly I only came to see if anyone else had highlighted any interesting parts or wrote in the margins." He gave a shrug as if somehow that is what all normal people did.<br/><br/>Perhaps he should have taken up Anthropology over English - as interested he was in the passing of culture through the written word. He would have to check out any upcoming Anthro courses that the JCP was offering. But that was an internet search for a different day. Unbeknownst to him he would be in need of the sticky note now squished in the pages of the contested periodical which was probably thrilled at being the center of so much drama. He had written down the reference number for a much needed course book that was paid for, packed, and ready for pick up at the section of the bookstore used for class materials. It was the forgotten second errand he had meant to take care of that night. (Trouble was he had already deleted the voicemail left by the grumpy lady at the bookstore who probably wouldn't be too keen on a visit saying he had lost that oh so important number.)<br/><br/>Wyatt shifted his sleeve back down over his wrist and adjusted his scarf in preparation for a hasty exit. "Happy studying." Was there anyone on that campus let alone the world that would actually understand that he was serious when he said that?