rcsinclair:

benjaminlennox:

Raina; she seemed to have some pent up aggression. Interesting - now not to pry. “I’ll let you figure that out, it wouldn’t as exciting of a story if I shared the details with you.” He looked over his shoulder, noting someone eying him suspiciously - or maybe, he was simply paranoid. Now, wouldn’t that be a surprise? Exasperatedly, he turned back towards her. “Why are you so interested in murder, anyway? Interested in thrillers? Do you feel your life’s been lacking any sort of action? Reasonable action, of course - not the unbearable kind.”

Before he let her answer, he nudged himself into a walk towards the entrance. “Feel free to follow,  I don’t particularly fancy talking to myself. Not right now, anyway.”

“It’s a hobby,” she said with a soft laugh. “Not murder, but… I’ve gone and confused you.” Distracted by his own distraction, Raina turned over her shoulder with a furrowed brow. Eh… What sent him flying out the door like that? Was he bored and looking for a reason to leave? She could understand that standing in one place for more than a moment could make one uneasy quickly. With a shrug of her thin shoulders, she followed his steps.

“Talking to yourself may keep your mind clear. Where are you going, exactly?” Raina jogged slowly to catch up a few steps and appeared by his side. “Well, we. The murder business, I’m only curious, you know. Maybe you don’t know, but there’s so much to think about when looking at a murder. Some see a body, some see clues or have a theory. I like to see the whole picture, not glossed over with fake blood that Hollywood uses. I hope I’m not freaking you out, but if I am, good! That means I have your attention for a moment. So what’s with the sudden paranoia trip? Are we running away together?”

“An interest isn’t a hobby,” he stated, matter-of-factly. “Surprisingly, an interest is an interest. Still, interesting of you to be interested in that particular interest. I tend to fancy thrillers as well.” 

Benjamin halted, and slowly turned to her. “Freak me out?” his voice was low; a mischievous smile breaching his features. “Dear me, I’d like to see you try.” 

He lead her towards the main lobby of the library - he had almost forgotten that she had to check out her book. “We’re not going anywhere important, unfortunately,” he breathed, glancing around for an unwanted gaze in his direction. “Simply going out for some air. I don’t like being in the company of the unintelligent.” He ignored her comment about running away together. To put it simply, he didn’t feel like aiding to the potential script of an 80s cliche romance. 

rcsinclair:

benjaminlennox:

“Oh yes,” he nodded, scanning through his memories with the book; his short time with that specific slice of imagination and storytelling. “Plenty of indecency as well, mind games, violent deaths … Things that keep me interested. I’m not one who likes to be bored, then again I can’t imagine why anyone /would/ like that sort of thing - and yet, so many welcome boredom like an old friend.” Benjamin shook his head nonchalantly, as if to shake himself out of a daze. He did that a lot - and it might’ve put some people off, but the man didn’t care. When did he ever?

“Well,” he began, attempting to conclude the conversation, as he wasn’t sure it would go anywhere else. “Better be off, then! I’ve things to do.”

“Bored?” Raina asked with a wide smile, watching him attempt to shake her. “Too bad. I was enjoying our conversation so much, but there are more interesting people in London, I suppose.” She pushed at a thick bookspine near her right thigh. “What sort of things?” She had half a mind to keep him busy with her, but that was vanity, thinking she was something special and to hang around for. “Nevermind, I don’t care if it isn’t murder. Is… it murder?” she teased, lifting her eyes from his shoe to his neck. “An ex lover, perhaps?” Her hands wrung together, greedy for details.

Raina; she seemed to have some pent up aggression. Interesting - now not to pry. “I’ll let you figure that out, it wouldn’t as exciting of a story if I shared the details with you.” He looked over his shoulder, noting someone eying him suspiciously - or maybe, he was simply paranoid. Now, wouldn’t that be a surprise? Exasperatedly, he turned back towards her. “Why are you so interested in murder, anyway? Interested in thrillers? Do you feel your life’s been lacking any sort of action? Reasonable action, of course - not the unbearable kind.”

Before he let her answer, he nudged himself into a walk towards the entrance. “Feel free to follow,  I don’t particularly fancy talking to myself. Not right now, anyway.”

rcsinclair:

benjaminlennox:

Instead of stabbing the tension with words, he did nothing but stare - he wasn’t sure if he wanted to become personal. /Personal/; now that was the definition of /uncomfortable/. “Romance, I don’t bother with it,” he acknowledged her frustrations, trying to register some sort of bothered look on his face to perhaps prove some sort of understanding between the two. Not that he really minded - she was a stranger, after all, and strangers, more often than not, had a habit of staying strangers. Even so, in utmost backwards irony, the strangers in Benjamin’s life were the people he once knew, and were once so fond of.

“Try this,” he said, scanning through a stack of books he had been looking through prior to their meeting. “French title, but don’t let that fool you. I recommend, instead of translating the title to English before you read it, do it after. I assure you, it isn’t romance; lack thereof, presumably - which, in my opinion, is the better alternative.” After giving Raina the book, Benjamin let out a sigh, and began absentmindedly scanning through the History aisle.

Raina took the book from him, running her fingers over the title a few times, suddenly forgetting she knew the language. A song was playing in her mind, taking her away from the present and back to Colorado. Her new acquaintance had somehow opened the floodgates to her previous life. Emotions ruled her once again, but it was only temporary, she hoped. These memories deserved to stay memories.

“Is it murder?” she asked as she stood next to Benjamin. “I like a good murder.”

“Oh yes,” he nodded, scanning through his memories with the book; his short time with that specific slice of imagination and storytelling. “Plenty of indecency as well, mind games, violent deaths … Things that keep me interested. I’m not one who likes to be bored, then again I can’t imagine why anyone /would/ like that sort of thing - and yet, so many welcome boredom like an old friend.” Benjamin shook his head nonchalantly, as if to shake himself out of a daze. He did that a lot - and it might’ve put some people off, but the man didn’t care. When did he ever?

“Well,” he began, attempting to conclude the conversation, as he wasn’t sure it would go anywhere else. “Better be off, then! I’ve things to do.”

rcsinclair:

benjaminlennox:

Benjamin tried to follow her gaze and found himself staring towards his own shoe; this conversation was becoming more and more sceptical, but he wasn’t complaining. It beat average small talk that only gave him a surging migraine. “London, yes,” he nodded, staring down towards his feet once more. “I do live there - though I’ve lived in Scotland for a few years, and I much prefer the city of London to Glasgow. Even Londoners tire of each other.” Benjamin said this with a slight edge in his voice - it wasn’t like him to converse with strangers, let alone his acquaintances or even his /friends/ if he had any - and he would occasionally talk with his wife, when she wasn’t busy trying to seduce him.

Cringing at the thought, he reverted himself back to the woman; her name was Raina. “Raina, I’ll call you Raina,” he took her hand and shook it slightly - confidently but at the same time, rather meekly. “My name’s Benjamin; known as Mr. Lennox elsewhere but don’t call me by my last name unless you want to make me cringe, which I hope won’t become your ambition in the next few minutes,” he exhaled, tapping his finger against the Art of Sex without realising. “This - I’m not interested,” he said, shoving it into a nearby bookcase without breaking their gaze. “Anyway, nice to meet you. If you’re into romance - Price of Dawn. It isn’t pretentious. A trait I abhor. I don’t particularly care for that specific genre, but I was feeling rather /different/ and by different, I mean I was literally drugged by Vicodin,” he pointed to his mouth. “Wisdom teeth were removed only a few years ago. Nevertheless, I did enjoy it - the novel. I wonder if I’d enjoy it sober. Probably not.”

“Romance?” she scowled, ignoring his name for a moment. “Romance is bullshit. Romance is dead and everyone interested in it should try one serious relationship in their lifetime and suffer the heartache it brings.” She held up a finger, an angry, hurt look flooded her face and she glared at him. Of course, it wasn’t his fault. Her emotions once again ruled her. Being a female was a curse sometimes.

Raina dropped her hand, pulled her face away and pawed at a bookspine near her fingers. “Benjamin is a nice name. I’ve no reason to call you Mr Lennox unless you enjoy being impersonal. I don’t. And you should forgive me for becoming so defensive. Some words rub me wrong, such is a thing with all females, I suppose. I can’t be sure. Um…” She cleared her throat and lifted a hand to rub her neck, her right hand still on the bookspine. “I hope you’ve had your share of drama for the day, it seems I’m suddenly fresh out. You could call me Miss Sinclair, but then you would be addressing my mother.” Raina smiled suddenly, lifting her eyes to him once again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you formally.”

Instead of stabbing the tension with words, he did nothing but stare - he wasn’t sure if he wanted to become personal. /Personal/; now that was the definition of /uncomfortable/. “Romance, I don’t bother with it,” he acknowledged her frustrations, trying to register some sort of bothered look on his face to perhaps prove some sort of understanding between the two. Not that he really minded - she was a stranger, after all, and strangers, more often than not, had a habit of staying strangers. Even so, in utmost backwards irony, the strangers in Benjamin’s life were the people he once knew, and were once so fond of.

“Try this,” he said, scanning through a stack of books he had been looking through prior to their meeting. “French title, but don’t let that fool you. I recommend, instead of translating the title to English before you read it, do it after. I assure you, it isn’t romance; lack thereof, presumably - which, in my opinion, is the better alternative.” After giving Raina the book, Benjamin let out a sigh, and began absentmindedly scanning through the History aisle.

rcsinclair:

benjaminlennox:

After indulging himself in strange titles, he turned his head to where the woman had been whispering to him about these ‘adult’ novels - why was she consoling him about her thoughts when she hadn’t even been more than a stranger, was she paranoid? “Sure,” he said, raising his eyebrows - taking the paper out of her hand. “For your information, nor do I - it’s just - well, it’s a broad library,” he looked down smoothly, reading softly to himself, feeling her eyes on him.

“I believe you’ll find this three rows over, shouldn’t be too much of a hassle for you,” he breathed, smiling slightly and returning the slip of paper to her. “Interesting novel, though quite boring,” he shrugged, realising that wouldn’t make the slightest sense to a stranger. He wanted so badly to refrain from going into logistics and all that, so he bit his tongue. “Not my taste. In case you were interested, which you aren’t. But I hope you enjoy.”

The burn of her face subsided for the moment as she stood straight, smoothed back her hair on either side of her head and cleared her throat. No, she couldn’t look at him straight now, and her eyes found his neck. “Strangely, I’ll take your word for it. If it’s boring, why would I need to read it? Nothing would come of it. What would you recommend?” she asked honestly, raising her hands before her to show her sudden interest. “I want thought-provoking literature. It doesn’t have to apply to my life, but stimulate my brain, pull me in without force. I want to live in another world for a little while, one thought up by a brilliant mind, not just… London! I mean, London!” She shook her hands and looked around briefly, “What’s the population now? Does anyone know or care? It’s not exactly a place where you can find a secret world.” She laughed briefly, “Maybe for Harry Potter, but not for me!” Her hands dropped to her thighs with a soft slap. “I hope you’re not from London and I’ve offended you. Stupid Americans, right? Forgive me. I get so caught up sometimes and you may not care or even wonder what this ridiculous woman is thinking engaging in conversation with a perfect stranger, but what better way to meet someone with similar interests than over books?”

Raina drew a deep breath, looking over his clothing quickly. “So recommend me a book or let me jabber on all day and give you a headache, it’s up to you. I’m Raina. Or you could call me Rae, it’s up to you.”

Benjamin tried to follow her gaze and found himself staring towards his own shoe; this conversation was becoming more and more sceptical, but he wasn’t complaining. It beat average small talk that only gave him a surging migraine. “London, yes,” he nodded, staring down towards his feet once more. “I do live there - though I’ve lived in Scotland for a few years, and I much prefer the city of London to Glasgow. Even Londoners tire of each other.” Benjamin said this with a slight edge in his voice - it wasn’t like him to converse with strangers, let alone his acquaintances or even his /friends/ if he had any - and he would occasionally talk with his wife, when she wasn’t busy trying to seduce him.

Cringing at the thought, he reverted himself back to the woman; her name was Raina. “Raina, I’ll call you Raina,” he took her hand and shook it slightly - confidently but at the same time, rather meekly. “My name’s Benjamin; known as Mr. Lennox elsewhere but don’t call me by my last name unless you want to make me cringe, which I hope won’t become your ambition in the next few minutes,” he exhaled, tapping his finger against the Art of Sex without realising. “This - I’m not interested,” he said, shoving it into a nearby bookcase without breaking their gaze. “Anyway, nice to meet you. If you’re into romance - Price of Dawn. It isn’t pretentious. A trait I abhor. I don’t particularly care for that specific genre, but I was feeling rather /different/ and by different, I mean I was literally drugged by Vicodin,” he pointed to his mouth. “Wisdom teeth were removed only a few years ago. Nevertheless, I did enjoy it - the novel. I wonder if I’d enjoy it sober. Probably not.”