But it was just language. Owl clasped his hands in front of him, atop the many pockets lining his leather overcoat, and inclined his head. “I thought it might help, sir.”
“Help?” Marv scoffed. “Christ. This’ll save me...weeks. Months. Hell, I might never have found a lead like this.” His eyes never left Owl’s face, though, boring into the porcelain planes of his mask. “I just don’t understand how you-”
“I’m glad it will be helpful,” Owl said, skipping back a step. “If you’ll excuse me, sir.”
Marv’s protests echoed behind him as he turned, hurrying towards the study’s grand doors.
The others were beginning to wrap up. The Library’s ‘day’ was coming to an end, and the lights burned lower with every second that passed. They’d toddle back to their rooms before long, settling in for a night of quiet conversation before finding sleep. His steps slowed. If Alexandria wasn’t...wasn’t real, why did the guests sleep? Why did he?
Because they did, he decided just as quickly, resolving to ask Jean about it later. With the visitors winding down, that meant his own duties were coming to an end as well. Letting the double doors slide shut behind him, he slipped out into the Library.
He’d only been free for a few moments, but already, his thoughts raced ahead to his own room, his own bed. His legs ached, and his arms too. He’d gotten his quarters arranged to perfection, warm and cozy with a low ceiling and broad, open windows opening to a garden he was quite sure didn’t actually exist anywhere on the grounds.
The sitting room lay ahead of him as he turned a corner - the sitting room, and a pair of doors beyond. The Librarians’ quarters. He’d flop down into bed, stripping off the stuffy mask and cumbersome overcoat, and-
Owl stopped, one hand already halfway to the throat of his jacket.
Something was...clicking. Ticking away, like gears. Like...
His head turned. He stared at the clock mounted on the wall, brow furrowed. It was clicking. That was...not normal. Not at all.
No sooner had he taken a step toward it when the final gear turned. The clock shifted, rotating a final degree and bringing a glass orb to the apex of its arc.
High overhead, echoing as though from within a clock tower Owl had never before seen, bells screamed across the quiet.
His heart thundered in his chest. He stumbled back from the clock, twisting and turning as though expecting an attack. What was it doing? What was happening? He was the Librarian, or the Librarian’s assistant, at least, and he should know what to do. Everyone expected him to-
Jean’s door creaked - and then opened, swinging wide.
Owl watched, pinned in place, as she stepped free. Her hand lingered at the collar of her jacket, doing up the last set of buttons. Her black-glass eyes turned to him as the leather came together. “Oh, good. You’re already here. That saves a good bit of time.”
“C-Crow,” Owl said, relief filling the word. He raced forward, all but throwing himself at her. “W-What’s-”
“Come, now,” Crow said, reaching out and dropping a hand onto the crown of his head. Her fingers tightened and jiggled, squeezing his skull affectionately. “This is all normal, kid. Don’t panic. What do you think is happening?”
The edge of his panic started to temper, cooling. Jean didn’t seem worried. She said it was normal. If that was the case... “It’s the clock,” Owl said, turning his gaze to the machinery over the fireplace. “It’s chiming, so I...oh.”
Crow laughed, then, her shoulders hunching forward gently. “Well, you got there eventually. Let’s go fetch Mr. Parker.”
She took a step forward, brisk and decisive. Owl stood frozen a moment longer, then scurried after her. Her final words cut across the sudden quiet left in the bells’ wake, slicing like a knife.
“His time is up.”
* * * * *
With her words rattling around his head and the adrenaline of the moment still surging through his limbs, the walk that had taken a few moments so shortly before seemed to take ages. Owl trotted along behind Crow, watching the doors grow steadily closer - the grand, massive oaken constructs, ones he’d pushed through so often before.
Closer and closer they crept, until finally Crow stepped through into the study beyond.
The others weren’t studying, anymore. They’d all heard the bells, clearly, and had abandoned their seats. Owl snorted, dropping his head in a feeble attempt to get their stares off him. Everyone would have heard something like that. They huddled in pairs, whispering to each other and watching the two Librarians approach.
All but for one, that was.
Bill Parker sat at his desk, half-hidden behind a massive stack of books. His shoulders twitched as they came through the study’s doors, but he didn’t look up, and he didn’t move.
He didn’t even acknowledge their presence, in fact. Crow strode closer and closer, her steps filled with a casual, confident nonchalance.
Her gloved fingers brushed against the wood of his desk, bracing gently. “Mr. Parker.”
The man’s pen flew faster and faster across his narrow-lined journal. He didn’t say anything. A flush of color spread across his cheeks, though.
Crow waited a long moment, motionless. Owl glanced around furtively, hearing the whispers grow louder and louder.
When no reply was forthcoming, she rapped a knuckle against the wood. “Mr. Parker. I’m afraid to inform you that-”
“Just another few minutes,” Bill said, waving her off. His eyes never left his tome. “I’m nearly done, and-”
“The clock has rung,” Crow said. Owl let her words fill his ears, trying to memorize the way she spoke. “You are not a first-time guest, Mr. Parker. I trust you know what that means.”
“A first time guest?” Bill said, with a scornful laugh rippling under the words. “You lot have squandered the
