The newcomer was staring at it. It wasn't really all that distinctive; just above the very tops of the highest shelves was a layer of soft pale blue with wisps of white cottom floating through it. Right in the center, a bright yellow orb cast warm light down on the whole room.
This was, admittedly, a little disconcerting to see indoors. In the middle of the night.
Someone cleared his throat again.
The stranger whirled around, claws tensing reflexively. In a luxurious high-backed chair, stitched from fine navy velvet that clashed horribly with the bright red carpeting, sat an Eevee. He was slumped down far enough that the heavy book propped open on his waist obscured all but the ears sticking out above it, the tip of his teardrop tail dangling off the far end of a similarly gaudy ottoman. One fuzzy hand gestured from behind the cover, pointing over to... a sign several feet away. In large black letters was scrawled "QUIET PLEASE".
Skive froze momentarily while two opposing instincts argued over whether he should run before the Eevee could call for help, or fight before the Eevee could call for help. But the reclining Pokémon showed no interest in calling anyone; the only motion he made was to shift his outstretched hand back to the edge of the open book cover.
This was a little confusing for Skive, whose job description listed only 'running' and 'fighting'. At a loss, and feeling increasingly conspicuous, he asked outright: "You gonna call Merlot?"
The response reflected all the enthusiasm of a teenager trapped in conversation with his parents. "No."
A few moments passed before Skive realized that that had been the entire answer. It didn't seem to be a lie or a trick, at least; the Eevee remained as still as before.
The Sneasel stood tall as he'd seen his (former...) leader do many times before, putting a brutish snarl in his voice and staring his opponent straight in the eye—or, er, about where his eye probably was. "Yer that librarian, Lexy, aintcha? I need a book."
Lexy traced his right paw up to the top corner of the page. He peeled the sheet delicately from the stack and carried it over to the left, wrist rotating delicately to avoid crinkling the paper where he gripped it. He let it fall, smoothed it out carefully, and replaced his paw on the cover once more before answering. "I bet."
Skive frowned. Talking wasn't his strong point, and these non-answers were making him feel awkward. He really, really didn't like to feel awkward. Back to basics, then.
A dark gray blur closed the gap between the two in the blink of an eye. Two claws tore deep into the velvet between the exposed brown ears, and two more materialized at the librarian's neck, razor edges liberating a few strands of fur. The Slasher member perched on the chair arm, peering down closely. "LOOK, ya damn brat, I've heard of yer little research project. Just spill whatcha know about Deinos. I've got one ta kill, and I'd like it ta hurt."
Part 2 of a story about Merlot's library by