The books hit the ground and Gideon looks a little like he's having a heart attack. Or maybe he looks a little like somebody's mom is going to walk in on them and have a heart attack. "I could've -" he starts. Then stops. Then pulls a hand up to his mouth and very narrowly avoids sinking his teeth into his knuckle. "Okay. That's -" His fingers twitch. "Okay."
He doesn't, it might be noted, watch out. At all.
He does, however, tip his head at Hawthorne and the amount of space left between rows of books. "So are you planning on shimmying through a shelf?" If the expression on his face looks skeptical, it's because it is. "Because it's going to be real unfortunate if the shelf decides to go on a trip in the middle of that and it bisects you."
Hawthorne's eyes follow all of Gideon's movements, head bobbling up and down, affirming every partial-to-full sentence he gets out. "Yes I—" At that last bit he cringes, then wrinkles his nose and backs away from the shelf. Like it might bite him. "Oh."
This does seem like the exact sort of set up for an entry in Quackenbush Best Demises. A later entry. Less impressive than most, more memorable for the gore than anything. He snorts, crossing and uncrossing his arms, unwilling to let the library see his frustration.
"I guess I live here now." Hawthorne decides, resigned. "D'you want to take my last will and testament for me?"
"Television loves it when elevators do that to people." Gideon winces sympathetically, gaze momentarily far away in vivid memory of people that've been halved before. Well. Fictional people. People in reenactments at best. But, still. Distinctly unpleasant. There's a lot of crushing. No one seems to enjoy it. Not a good way to go.
"Don't you need a lawyer for that?" He blinks, reconsiders. "Or at least a witness. I could definitely lie." He probably wouldn't. But there's still that chance of human error. "Besides, I feel like I could reasonably keep you fed. There's room for that."
"Oh, Willow is my lawyer..." The first bit of Hawthorne's reply is mumbled into the palm of his hand as he rubs his chin. It's reflective, perhaps just talking to himself. He perks up when Gideon mentions food. "Oh, that might work." A pause, then a frown. "But food isn't allowed in the library. So you might get in trouble."
It takes a considerable amount of effort not to ask where Willow picked up her degree. It's not that he doesn't want to say it - it's just that it was a pretty self-directed comment and it's probably rude to call someone out on their sister's learning credentials when they're already in the middle of a borderline hostage situation.
"I feel like they'd need to make accommodations," Gideon shrugs, as though he's already run the analysis on the situation. The cost benefits of eating in the library versus starving to death. Also in the library. "If you're going to be a permanent resident."
"I don't want to be an inconvenience," Hawthorne replies with some trepidation. He doesn't much like the prospect of being taken care of forever, a prisoner of the library, and he furrows his brow, scowling thoughtfully as he tries to come up with an alternate plan.
It doesn't take long. The Bad Luck Curse tends to inspire him, as luck to provide him a solution as to foil him. "What if we knocked all the shelves over, domino-style. Everyone would be so overwhelmed, the chances they'd be impressed rather than angry are very high."
He did absolutely zero math to come to this conclusion. It's just a feeling.
Hawthorne is stuck, Gideon is Confused
He doesn't, it might be noted, watch out. At all.
He does, however, tip his head at Hawthorne and the amount of space left between rows of books. "So are you planning on shimmying through a shelf?" If the expression on his face looks skeptical, it's because it is. "Because it's going to be real unfortunate if the shelf decides to go on a trip in the middle of that and it bisects you."
Hawthorne is stuck, Gideon is Confused
This does seem like the exact sort of set up for an entry in Quackenbush Best Demises. A later entry. Less impressive than most, more memorable for the gore than anything. He snorts, crossing and uncrossing his arms, unwilling to let the library see his frustration.
"I guess I live here now." Hawthorne decides, resigned. "D'you want to take my last will and testament for me?"
Hawthorne is stuck, Gideon is Confused
"Don't you need a lawyer for that?" He blinks, reconsiders. "Or at least a witness. I could definitely lie." He probably wouldn't. But there's still that chance of human error. "Besides, I feel like I could reasonably keep you fed. There's room for that."
Hawthorne is stuck, Gideon is Confused
He does not notice any gaps in his logic.
Hawthorne is stuck, Gideon is Confused
"I feel like they'd need to make accommodations," Gideon shrugs, as though he's already run the analysis on the situation. The cost benefits of eating in the library versus starving to death. Also in the library. "If you're going to be a permanent resident."
Hawthorne is stuck, Gideon is Confused
It doesn't take long. The Bad Luck Curse tends to inspire him, as luck to provide him a solution as to foil him. "What if we knocked all the shelves over, domino-style. Everyone would be so overwhelmed, the chances they'd be impressed rather than angry are very high."
He did absolutely zero math to come to this conclusion. It's just a feeling.