2025-08-09 - Book Swaps and New Worlds

It's late. The crickets have officially stopped chirping, and dusk has long since given into night time, but for folks who work in food service evenings usually means work hours, so getting back home at a decent time is just right out. Still, Cedric is surprised to see so few people around on his walk back from the ferry at his new place.

Maybe there aren't as many late night crew living here. Or maybe he just snuck in between the crowds. Who's to say! But as he enters the lobby of the Silver Brook apartments, his steps slow to a crawl. He's just, you know, taking his time. Having a meander. Taking in the liminal spaces of empty apartment buildings.

He means to check his mail, but what ends up happening is he goes through the wrong archway and ended up... well, here. In the library. Not that it's anything like the selection at the bookstore, but it's both unexpected and a little bit strange. Ecclectic. And then he spots something that catches his interest.

Naturally, it's a cook book. One track minded, he is.

Emerson has been living in the building since February, and so he's familiar with the little library and its collection of random books, movies, games, and other things. Every so often he wanders down with a shoebox and he swaps out some donations of his own for a few things to borrow which he takes upstairs to read, then return to the shoebox and bring back with a couple more donations. The "filing system" if there is one is very vague -- mostly keeping like media with like media. And then some sort of handwaving at genres.

He has the shoebox tucked under one arm, a couple of the last titles he'd borrowed in it and then a couple more from his own shelves to add to the collection. He pauses when he notices Cedric there. He hadn't expected to see the chef on a day that he wasn't working. He offers a smile and a bit of a nod in greeting as he goes to take the items he brought out of the box and starts putting them onto the shelves.

With his nose in a book about Texas Hill Country cooking, Cedric doesn't immediately realize he's not by himself any longer. Everything's quiet this late at night, so it's easy to convince yourself that you're alone even when you're out in public. And, y'know, not alone.

So deep in his reading, in fact, that it isn't until Emerson is nearby, actively putting things onto the shelves that Cedric finally looks up... and manages not to scream. There's a definite sharp intake of breath, suddenly, but then he regains control of himself before waking up half the building by making them think someone's being murdered down here.

"Oh, eh," he says kind of lamely, "hello." Still clearly reeling from the scare that he all but set himself up for, he snaps the book shut and slides it back into place. "Sorry, you live here?"

Nodding to the shelving, he further asks, "Is that how it works, sort of an exchange program?" Cedric's guessing at what Emerson is doing, here. He pulls another book at random off the shelf to flip through, this one a romance book that's seen a lot of reading judging by the cracked spine and bent corners.

Emerson looks instantly apologetic when Cedric sucks in that breath and says, "Sorry. I was trying not to disturb you. You seemed very absorbed in whatever you were reading." He didn't look at the title or what it was about so much as just noticed he had a book in his hands. Glancing down at the shoebox that is now nearly empty he says, "Oh, yeah, sortof. You don't really check the books in and out like a regular library but you can read them down here, or borrow them and bring them back. I tend to bring them back then add a couple from my own collection that I'm not going to read again." He gestures sort of vaguely toward the shelves. "Sometimes people keep them. Sometimes people just add to them without taking any away." Though when Cedric asks if he lives here, he nods and says, "204. Upstairs."

Immediately, Cedric holds up a hand to stop the apology. "My own fault, don't worry about it, yeah?" he says, flashing a self-deprecating smile before adding, "Should do better to be aware of my surroundings."

And he decides to be extra aware of his surroundings by nosily peering over to see what Emerson is returning to the shelves. "That's a great idea." Nodding to what Emerson's doing, to indicate. "I already offloaded a bunch of my books before I moved, so I'm just down to my must-haves. It's funny how things accumulate though, like."

Then Emerson mentions his apartment number, and Cedric snorts. "I just moved into 205. Funny coincidence, that." As he becomes aware of what he's holding, he frowns down at the blurb on the back and sets it back in its place on the shelf. Before he picks up that cookbook again.

The books left inside the shoebox are a mix. There is a field guide to wildflowers, a book on back yard gardening, a couple of novels that look like they could be fantasy perhaps? Maybe urban fantasy. The images on the covers look a little too modern, though with a hint of magic. He glances over at the book in Cedric's hand when he puts it back on the shelf and reaches for the cook book once more, smiling just a little bit.

"My parents still like to send me books from time to time. Some of them are more my style than others," he admits. "But books are their go-to gift."

When Cedric mentions that he's moved in across the hall, Emerson looks a little bit surprised. "Oh? Really? Huh. That's a strange coincidence and yet cool, I guess. I don't think I've actually met my neighbors across the hall."

Snooping concluded, Cedric goes back to perusing the sole cookbook he's found so far. Though given the order (or lack thereof) here, there's very likely more. He just hasn't discovered them quite yet. That's the fun of browsing, though, isn't it?

He's still holding that Texas Hill Country cookbook like a lifeline.

"Books are a great gift, yeah," he says. "And you have now, I suppose. It's official and everything, I'm proper moved in." Gesturing vaguely upwards towards his apartment, he adds, "It's a quad. I'll introduce you 'round to the other three, if you like." That is left to be a tentative offer, for the moment, as he tucks the cookbook under his arm and starts to scan the shelves again.

After a moment his fingers snag on a book but he doesn't pull it fully from its place. It's something to do with herbs, though on second consideration, less the "cooking with" variety and more the "making potions with" type. Not that there isn't crossover.

It's highly likely that there are more stashed in between everything else. The lack of organization makes it part library, part scavenger hunt. This time, he looks at which book it is that Cedric has chosen to hold onto. "Thinking of trying out a different genre?" he asks. Texas Hill Country seems quite a bit different than the cuisine at the Chateau.

"Yes, well, true. I have met you." He pauses and then jokes, "Who are you again?" When Cedric says that it's a quad, he nods and says, "Big apartment, that one. I'm in a double but I don't currently have a roommate. It's just me in it. But sure, I'd meet your roommates. Are they cool?"

"That's pretty fitting for the Boo'edwalk, too," he chuckles, noting the book that Cedric pulls loose. "Something you'd see at Stirring."

"Believe it or not, it is somehow also about French cuisine," Cedric says, of the supposedly Texas-themed book that had drawn his attention. "I was excited for American barbeque but apparently the chef trained in Provence." He lets out a mild bit of a chuckle at the serendipity of it all.

He ponders the question about his roommates for a moment as he, too, takes an interest in the book he's randomly pulled. "Yeah, like, could be proper magic too," and he lifts a hand to wave at their surroundings. "Given it's here," he clarifies.

Finally, he says, "They seem alright. Barely see them, with my schedule, but they're all nice so far. I've been stuck in smaller quarters with much worse people, right?" So he shrugs, though it's a contemplative sort of gesture.

Emerson laughs just a little bit at that and says, "Pretty sure we could find you some authentic bbq recipes and books. Never know what might be hiding in here." He lets his eyes scan the shelves up and down, taking in the myriad titles as they talk. The last couple of books in his box are set on the shelves and the empty box is set on a small coffee table. He'll remember to take that with him when he goes.

"I mostly lived with my family and siblings before I came out here, so I don't know. I got along pretty well with them, so I haven't been in real close quarters with people I didn't like," Emerson admits. "And now I have a lot of space all to myself. It's weird not living with othe rpeople, to be honest, but I kind of like it."

Cedric waves a hand, giving a quick shake of his head to accompany it. "Don't have the proper equipment for a barbeque anyway, do I?" he says. Though his eyes narrow at that thought, and his gaze slides off to the side so he can peer into the middle distance. No doubt calculating how he might set up a proper smoker at the Chateau.

Banishing the thought, he tucks the cookbook under his arm so he can instead look through the potion-making book. "How do you think a 'potion to summon a dislocated spirit' works? I mean, you can't make a spirit drink a potion."

He looks up from the random page he'd opened to, and nods at Emerson. "I lived on a yacht in the Med for a couple of seasons. Crew lives basically on top of each other. The flats here are spacious in comparison, like."

"There's no reason that you couldn't," Emerson says, "If you wanted to petition for one. You do have a grill chef after all." Him. He's the grill chef. But he's not exactly lobbying for them to turn into a barbecue joint, either.

"Perhaps it gives you the ability to summon the spirit," Emerson suggests. "Like some people in the park have that ability naturally. Maybe the potion temporarily lets you do so?"

Emerson smiles a little crookedly when Cedric mentions living on a yacht for a couple of seasons. "Yeah, I'd imagine so. I've seen berths on a ship and those are some seriously tight quarters. Hope you get along with your coworkers."

That's a dangerous road for Cedric to consider going down. He looks over at Emerson speculatively, grinning at the mention of there being a grill chef ready and willing (though debatably so) to start making brisket et al.

He says, "Could do, I suppose," as he considers the potions book, and then he finally closes it. But, notably, he keeps it in his hand rather than putting it back on the shelf. "You think so?"

Well, whatever Cedric believes or doesn't believe, he definitely intends to borrow this book. "Yeah, tight is definitely a word for it. It's how I got used to living out of a bag. Now that I'm settling, it feels a bit odd to accumulate things?" His two choices secured and now both tucked under his arm, Cedric runs a hand through his hair. "Had bunk beds, that was wild. Yacht crews are all drama all the time."

Oh, he would definitely make brisket if there were a smoker in which to make one. He would use the heck out of one if it were available, but he's happy with what he does and the restaurant the way that it is, so he's not in any particular hurry to convince anyone to change it, not on his accord anyway. He leans back against the shelves behind him and slips his hands into his pockets, comfortable. "I don't know. I'm not really the foremost authority on magic. I just have the things that I can do and things I've seen others do."

"I had some things back home and I've sort of settled in since getting here and I've gotten comortable with it," Emerson says and then he tries to envision living in bunk beds on a tiny space with nowhere to go if the ship were at sea with your coworkers all up in your business all day every day. "Oof," is about all he can say to that. "I think that's just way too much potential drama for me. We had enough drama just working a family business."

"There's a whole department for studying it now, isn't there?" Cedric asks, though he knows the answer to the question. Then as he looks down at the supposed magical grimoire in his hands, he adds, "Wonder if they're hiring test subjects. Best I'd be able to contribute."

Speaking of getting comfortable, though, Cedric nods his agreement. "Had to move a bunch of boxes and some furniture up here, big change to how I arrived." And while the books in his hands are just being borrowed, he hefts them up demonstrably. "Including a box just for books," he adds.

As Emerson comments on the drama of a family business, Cedric's starting to nod along with him again, this time more forcibly. "Worked for one on the Amalfi coast as the lone outsider, it was wild. Different sort of drama to the yacht. Less people shagging, obviously." That last bit must be a joke, though Cedric just sighs about it.

"I think they will let anyone go along on those trips if you sign up for it. You just have to sign some kind of a waiver. I don't know if I'm ready for that kind of travel. I think I'll let others check it out a few more times before I sign up for it," Emerson admits, perhaps just a tiny bit nervous of the idea of hopping through a portal into another reality. It's not a fear, precisely, just a little bit of healthy trepidation.

"The Amalfi coast is so beautiful," Emerson says with a kind of sigh in his voice that indicates a little bit of longing. Then he laughs, letting out a little cough, "God, I hope so. That would be a whole level of drama for which I am not sure I'd be prepared."

This seems to be news to him, the bit about the trips to other worlds. Cedric half-turns, eyebrows lifting and eyes wide. "Really?" he asks, then he smiles, gleefully. "Well I know what I'm doing tonight, then." Forget the reading, time to sign his life away.

Well, that's probably not in the fine print, but he's eager about it nonetheless.

"Yeah, I've been lucky, where I've been able to work. Always try to be close to a beach. Suppose the lakeshore counts up here?" Cedric's amused by that, his smile returning. "Think the Côte d'Azur was my favorite, though. Bonus in that I picked up the language more or less. Had a rubbish go of Spanish when I worked in Ibiza, probably because I kept trying to pronounce everything like it were French."

"I know a smattering of French," Emerson says, "But not a lot. A bit of Gailedge, Irish Gaelic. That's mostly from my family. And a few ASL signs I've picked up since being here. I'd like to learn more but I haven't had a lot of time to practice," he admits. With his books stocked and everything returned to where it should be, he reaches over and grabs his box, tucking it back under his arm.

"Maybe if you come back in one piece from your trip, I'll sign up and try it myself," he laughs, grinning. "And you better, because I really don't want to work for another chef." And with that, he begins to make his way toward the door, nodding in that direction. "Was good to see you, boss/neighbor. I'm sure I'll be seeing you around more soon."

Emerson's language list earns a nod from Cedric for it, duly impressed. "Mostly just French for me. Enough Italian to just get by," and then of course the aforementioned total lack of Spanish. He glances over as Emerson makes ready to go.

"I'm sure it'll be totally free and clear of any danger," Cedric says, sounding far too confident on the matter given he's not done any research into it. Just call it optimism. "Don't worry, I'll only be gone on my day off! See you around, mate."

It won't be long before Cedric heads upstairs himself. But first, he goes back for that well-read romance book. Nobody needs to know.