"Libraries." He traces a pattern on the table with his finger. "When I was a kid, the library was... safe. Quiet. The librarians didn't ask questions if you stayed all day. And fantasy was perfect because it was about being somewhere else. Being someone else." He takes a deep breath. "What about you?" he asks. "Why fantasy?"
"Honestly? Started withThe Hobbitwhen I was seven. My mom read it to me and my brother." Before everything went wrong, before she left, but I don't add that part. "After that, I was hooked. Read everything I could find with dragons or magic or both."
"Your mom sounds nice."
"She was." I leave it at that, and he doesn't push.
"I've been meaning to rereadThe Hobbit," he says. "It's been years."
"Library has a beautiful illustrated edition. Saw it last week in the rare books section."
"They let you in the rare books section?"
"Margaret likes me. I fix her computer sometimes."
"That explains how you were still there after closing yesterday."
I freeze. "You noticed?"
"I — yeah. You were still reading when I left." He looks embarrassed. "I wasn't watching you or anything. Just happened to see."
"I was finishing the book I'd been reading. Wanted to startDragonflightfresh." And I'd been killing time before following him, but I don't mention that.
"Did you know," Devin says, clearly desperate to change the subject, "that Anne McCaffrey wrote the first science fiction book with a female protagonist to win both the Hugo and the Nebula?"
"I didn't know that."
"Dragonflight. 1969. Pretty groundbreaking for the time." He's relaxing now, in his element. "And she was one of the first sci-fi authors to really explore consent in telepathic bonds, even if some of it seems dated now —"
He breaks off as Robin appears with two cups.
"Break means taking a break," Robin says, setting coffee in front of both of us. "Which includes beverages. On the house."
"Robin —"
"Devin, you've reorganized our entire storage system and memorized every customer's order in a week. You get free coffee." He looks at me. "You get free coffee because you're actually making Dev take his break for once instead of reading while standing behind the counter."
"I don't —" Devin starts.
"You literally ate lunch standing up yesterday while reading."
Devin goes red. "It was a good part."
"It's always a good part with you." Robin grins at me. "He reads like other people breathe. Constantly and without thinking about it."
"There are worse habits," I say.
"True. He could be into those awful reality shows Vaughn pretends he doesn't watch."
"I heard that," Vaughn calls from near the entrance, having just walked in.
"You were meant to," Robin calls back, then to us: "Twenty minutes, Dev. Actual break time. No cleaning."
He leaves to handle Vaughn's order, and Devin wraps his hands around his mug like he needs something to hold onto.
"Sorry about him. Robin's very... enthusiastic."
"He cares about you."