<div align=center>The library was a beautiful place, but it didn't make Tae feel any less uncomfortable as he walked through the door. He paused in the doorway to survey the area, eyes glancing around almost warily. The whole place reeked of education, and the whole learning thing didn't exactly come naturally to him, despite the large book he carried underarm.
Still, he was lazy, not stupid. He figured if he could catch up on everything he'd missed sleeping in class then that tiny and insignificant (perfectly insignificant, means nothing to me) slither of guilt would leave his conscience and everything would go back to normal. All trepidation aside, he squared his shoulders and made his way to an empty table, sliding into a chair and putting the book down in front of him. Figuring the most logical place to start would be the beginning, he flicked to the first page with the manner of someone handling a ticking bomb.
He stared. He shut the book.
"That's not English," he muttered to no-one in particular, begrudgingly shoving the book across the table to put as much space between it and him as possible. He'd catch up next class, then that tiny, insignificant (totally insignificant, means nothing to me) slither of guilt would be gone for good.
In the meantime, boredom had returned with a vengeance. Boredom seemed to be becoming almost an inherent part of his personality at this point, something not helped by the seemingly endless monotony of winter. He found himself wishing, not for the first time, that cats hibernated. It would only be a matter of shapeshifting and sleeping for a few months. Living the dream.
However, seeing as this wasn't an option, he was forced to find other ways to fill his time. It was with this in mind that he looked once more around the library for someone or something to catch his interest. </div>
Still, he was lazy, not stupid. He figured if he could catch up on everything he'd missed sleeping in class then that tiny and insignificant (perfectly insignificant, means nothing to me) slither of guilt would leave his conscience and everything would go back to normal. All trepidation aside, he squared his shoulders and made his way to an empty table, sliding into a chair and putting the book down in front of him. Figuring the most logical place to start would be the beginning, he flicked to the first page with the manner of someone handling a ticking bomb.
He stared. He shut the book.
"That's not English," he muttered to no-one in particular, begrudgingly shoving the book across the table to put as much space between it and him as possible. He'd catch up next class, then that tiny, insignificant (totally insignificant, means nothing to me) slither of guilt would be gone for good.
In the meantime, boredom had returned with a vengeance. Boredom seemed to be becoming almost an inherent part of his personality at this point, something not helped by the seemingly endless monotony of winter. He found himself wishing, not for the first time, that cats hibernated. It would only be a matter of shapeshifting and sleeping for a few months. Living the dream.
However, seeing as this wasn't an option, he was forced to find other ways to fill his time. It was with this in mind that he looked once more around the library for someone or something to catch his interest. </div>