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Post by Dean McCoppin on Jun 14, 2017 17:57:04 GMT -6
When people brought Gatsberry up in a discussion, the first thing that came to one's mind was indeed flashing lights, extravagance, vice, sin, corruption and an incredible amount of men who did not abide the law for a living. With a place so known for some good and for a lot of bad reasons, Dean almost forgot that deep down, Gastberry was still a city per se. Such was shown in the sparse moments he took for himself while strolling around the crime infested city.
From the slums, to the docks, to the City Hall, to the shops, there were some hints of normality and of semblances of an ordinary life in the city who slumbered inside of itself. Another clear example was the building Dean had found himself standing in front of. To be more specific, a library.
A smile crooked up on the corner of the undercover agent, some relief in seeing a place like this. Libraries usually packed a series of local books that carefuly detailed local history and listed local personalities. It was something very casual and simple used for recording purposes and for census, but it coul definitely be of use to Dean. If he was familiar with the city, with its streets and with the history behind them, he could surely adapt much faster and know how to act.
Would the local librarian be in with the mob as well? He could not help but smirk slightly at such a thought, pondering on how incredibly dreadful it would be to have no safe place to lean on while in Gatsberry. He'd have to give it a try, wouldn't he?
His hands lodged in his overcoat's deep pockets, Dean walked slowly towards the door that kept him away from the knowledge he assumed he was looking for. Raising an eyebrow as he looked inside for a split second, looking for signs of life, Dean shook his head before shrugging and opening the door and walking in.
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Post by Deleted on Jun 14, 2017 18:30:00 GMT -6
The worst part of running the public library was definitely the fact that it had to be open during working days, regardless of the obvious disinterest of the general population for the written word. Evelyn found herself alone for large periods of time during her labor hours, having developed the bad habit of talking to herself while performing her scarce, daily tasks.
That gloomy morning was no different. The slightly cold weather led her to keep the big double doors strategically closed, making the building less inviting than usual. She wasn't expecting a lot of clientele. She'd been walking around, accessing the damage of the day. A few misplaced books, some of them completely torn. And she wouldn't mind if they had been used and abused, but it was evermore the latter.
She had never understood the complete disregard for books that people carried inside their sacred place. What else could people look for in a Library, was a question that bothered Evelyn for a while, before she realized the answer was the same as it was for a great percentage of the rest of the questions she asked herself everyday: the Mob. The place she'd chosen for peace and distraction was as well frequented as the nearest pub, and it often infuriated her, always displeased her.
But that day was not going so bad. A couple of students from the nearby University walked around for a few minutes, understandably not finding what they were looking for. They didn't bother to ask the qualified person to answer them. So said person decided to continue her shores as if it was none of her business. And that was how she ended up practicing her balance on wooden ladder, a couple of books in each arm a little difficulty to find their rightful place.
That was until she caught a glimpse of white light coming from the general direction of the door, meaning she'd either have to get down to expel someone from her quiet place or actually talk to them about her craft. Which she deemed unlikely but, in any case, decided to carefully start to make her way down the ladder without dropping anything or worse, falling herself.
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Flapper
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"No man is an island."
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Post by Dean McCoppin on Jun 14, 2017 18:53:39 GMT -6
Peeking inside the library, Dean found himself greeted by the familiar scent of dust and age that were usually so common in places of wisdom like this. It was comforting to see something so classic looking as this, so Dean definitely decided he would take a good look around for the benefit of the doubt. It might have what he was looking for, after all.
Taking his overcoat off, Dean glanced around for any sign of life, not being surprised to see how lonely the place seemed to be. In a town like this, surely people would value other pleasures. He understood since he was similar to them in some ways. Hanging both his coat and his hat, he slid his hands into his pockets, walking around with a curious demeanor stamped in his face.
A sudden sound made him realize whoever was in charge must have noticed him, so he stood still for an instant before noticing a female figure in the distance, which sparked a smile on his lips. "Lovely day for a stroll up the bookcases, huh?" he asked playfully, walking closer to the woman.
Her darker skin served as a nice contrast to his own, which made Dean wonder where the librarian had come from. He wanted to assume she was italian, but did not dare to make a guess just yet. No need to get coy and antagonize someone you just met for trying to play detective. Even if Dean sort of was one in his own way.
Pressing his elbow against the edge of a bookcase, he eyed her once more before going straight to the point. "Do you happen do have anything on well...Gatsberry?"
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Post by Deleted on Jun 14, 2017 19:22:22 GMT -6
Evelyn was taken aback by the man's sort of introduction and forced herself to smile politely as a reply, stepping down the ladder. She studied him carefully, trying to keep her thoughts to herself. She'd always been told by her father that her face was usually her worst enemy, and she was aware of the smear of mischievous curiosity that marked her facial expression.
She'd always had trouble hiding her blunt opinions, specially to men in suits. She saw well dressed men as a bad omen in a town where the only men who thrived were the rotten ones. But she kept her trained smile on her lips as the gentleman approached, taking the few seconds to place her cargo on a lower shelf and patting her blouse to disperse the dust.
She knew most of the faces in town, but this one was new. She observed the man's rounded brown eyes watch her as attentively as she was was eyeing him, which she took as a proclamation of a war zone. At least until proven wrong. But she couldn't keep a straight face at the fella's request, and responded with a small laugh. "You want books." She sounded more surprised than she'd wanted to, but she brushed it off with a nod. "What would you like to know about our marvelous Gatsberry?"
The man's interest certainly peeked her own. Newcomers usually cared more about living the city than learning about it.
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"No man is an island."
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Post by Dean McCoppin on Jun 14, 2017 19:46:48 GMT -6
He passed his fingers on the books of the shelf next to him, enjoying the feeling of aged pages brushing against his fingertips. These were old works, there was no denying. Gently, he pulled a random one from its resting place, carefully opening it before taking a peek at the words registered on it. "The Widow Douglas she took me for her son, and allowed she would sivilize me; but it was rough living in the house all the time" he read in an amused tone before eyeing Evelyn and closing the book. "Mark Twain is always good, huh?"
He was sure she was probably confused by his sudden appearance. He himself was still getting used to Gatsberry in general, so he was doing his very best to learn as much as he could. She seemed to enjoy her job, judging by her response, so he might as well appeal to that.
"Well, that depends on what lovely old Gatsberry decides to tell me about its life story." Dean quickly replied, tilting his head to the side and smiling playfully at the librarian who seemed quite shocked at his sudden interest for the town's secrets. He supposed people really did not care much, so long as they sated their lust and desires; which would explain why the library seemed so empty and devoid of life. He really was a fish out of water at that moment. "Any record books on the city's mayors? General data? I'm working on a thesis." he justified himself with what was a partial lie. Sure, he was no college scholar of any sort, but he was definitely getting his hands dirty with his investigation.
Rubbing the back of his head for a second, Dean raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for an answer. She might know some things herself, so it would not hurt to ask if she proved friendly.
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Post by Deleted on Jun 18, 2017 5:22:32 GMT -6
The initial wave of perplexity started to wash away and Evelyn returned half of her attention to fixing her shelves and positioning her books. The man's arrival just made it more clear that she should start getting used to this sort of event. New arrivals, questions, not particularly unwanted interactions, but not particularly welcome either. "Do you empathize with that passage?" The recently shaped librarian retorted in the same playful guise the brunet had seemed to take over for the current conversation.
She thought about the location of the books he requested and accompanied her close mouthed smile with a wave of her hand, hoping that the new arrival would follow her through the old wooden shelves that outlined the corridors. Thesis, he'd said. He definitely looked like the sort of person that would take the time to do research on a city like Gatsberry, she didn't doubt that. But she had a very keen eye. As a quiet person, she spent a lot of her days watching others. And she had developed a talent for guessing their past, turning their guesses into almost certain truths in some cases. And his words threw her off, even if she didn't know yet why.
"Thesis, huh?" She figured making small talk wouldn't hurt, specially wouldn't hurt her, nor her curiosity. "Why Gatsberry, Mr...?" She paused in an interrogative tone, halting in front of a corridor and changing direction with a quiet exclamation as she made her mental way to the section she wanted.
She picked up one of the books and felt bad blowing on it to get the dust out of the leather bound before turning it to him. But she also hoped this would heighten the man's realization that his request was unusual or, at least, scarce.
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"No man is an island."
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Post by Dean McCoppin on Jun 18, 2017 7:41:27 GMT -6
Dean could not help but smile a bit at Evelyn's remark, and how astute she had shown to be. To be honest, he himself had never really thought on why he enjoyed the story of Huckleberry Finn that much, but the librarian's comment on the passage he had just read made something click. He had indeed felt like a disconnected person throughout his life, at least in some places he had worked on, namely his first instances in a police force. Youth, inexperience and a desire to do whatever felt right at the time had probably made him feel trapped. It was ironic how he was getting himself into a similar situation by accepting to do what he had been tasked to do in Gatsberry. He'd have to give Mark Twain more credit for making a character that identifiable, even if Huck Finn sometimes went overboard with the racial slurs.
Evelyn's movement served to awaken Dean from his thoughts, reminding him where he was, to which he quickly retorted with a shrug. "Doesn't everyone?" he asked in response, placing the book back in its shelf before following after the librarian, his hands now resting in his pockets once again while he eyed her movements. She seemed to motion herself on instinct around the library, which was understandable, seeing how long she probably had worked in the place.
He tilted his head back a bit when she inquired him about his reasons for a 'thesis' on Gatsberry. He supposed it was unusual of a request, and he would not go far by lying and saying he was a scholar of some sort because he was past that age and didn't tend to himself enough to even pass as a professional of that line of work. "Dean McCoppin. Please call me Dean, though. I don't really care for formalities." he replied with a shrug, looking at her intently while leaning against a shelf once they had reached their destination. "I'm trying to put together a table comparing it to other cities. Oddly enough, there is little to nothing about it, and I'm curious to know just what's behind it."
He was not lying in of itself, to be quite honest. He did feel a large ammount of curiosity about the city and how it had come to be this way. It took a long time to evolve from a small province into a semi-metropolis, yet Gatsberry had chosen to be different and do so in a small amount of years. Well...someone had seemingly chosen in Gatsberry's stead, and that was the point. Dean wanted to figure out how exactly it had come to happen.
Dean firmly held the book, giving the librarian a nod before taking it, brushing his fingertips on the cover of the structure to feel just how old it was. He could not help but snigger a bit as he opened it. "People really went out of their way to make this place anonymous, huh?" he asked amused as he tilted his way to the side while reading parts of the old book. "I didn't catch your name, by the way."
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Post by Deleted on Jun 18, 2017 9:26:41 GMT -6
"I didn't give you one." She shot him a half smile as she supported her weight on the side of a lower shelf, peeking over a higher one she couldn't have reached before. She was sure she'd stuffed some old Gatsberry books over there. "It's Evelyn." The pause between the first syllable of her name and the rest was obvious, but instead of her usual quiet curse, she tried to brush it off with her last. "O'Connell. Evelyn O'Connell."
She still had trouble getting her new name out without hesitation. She knew she'd let the old Helena slip out at any distraction, which was odd, because she would swear to anyone she'd practiced. And she had spent what seemed like an eternity, a reasonable amount of time in her opinion, to choose a name she'd adapt well to. She'd searched a vast collection of names that resembled her old one, at least at the start. And then she'd settle with Evelyn. And she now realized it didn't make much of a difference.
Mr. Dean McCoppin had his eyes on the pages of the History book, making it rather hard to notice any reaction to what she'd said. She guessed it would be for the best, since she wouldn't dwell on what would probably be nothing at all. "I suppose if you want to know Gatsberry, you have to visit." She jumped out of the shelf with a couple of books hooked under her arm. "What other cities would you be comparing it to?"
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"No man is an island."
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Post by Dean McCoppin on Jun 18, 2017 10:00:34 GMT -6
Dean tapped his fingers on the edges of the book, humming to himself while reading some simple passages typed up into the pages, his expression incredibly ambiguous regarding what he read. Surprisingly, the city had once been buried deep into crime and corruption, albeit in a far more brutal and obvious manner comparing to what it seemed to be right now. For what he heard, all the crime families had been chased and crushed into submission or oblivion when the Marcello lineage took over. Sort of like an empire absorving neighboring territories.
His eyes still glued on the book, the raven haired man sniggered a bit, a hint of a smile on the corner of his lips. "Pretty name...Irish descent? The O'Connell kind of gives it away." he mentioned with curiosity while reading it, even if the librarian's features and skin tone suggested different origins. He had nothing to do with that, though. "Shall I call you Miss O'Connell, Evelyn, or can we stick with Evie?"
She had an intriguing point when asking him what other cities he'd be comparing Gatsberry to. Raising his eyes to focus on her, Dean stopped for a couple of seconds as he thought of his answer before focusing on the book once more. "Well, Chicago. New York. Los Angeles. The sort...big cities who were graced with a sudden boom..." he retorted in a callous tone, exploring the pages of the book he had been graced with. "You have quite the repertoire...how come no one ever tried to steal from you?" he joked in a lighthearted tone.
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Post by Deleted on Jun 18, 2017 10:34:34 GMT -6
Irish decent. Yes, she could be Irish. But Dean would never know, since she just casually hummed in response to his comment about her new surname. The same happened for her first name. She understood the need and try to be friendly in a new city, she didn't understand why was the man trying to be friendly with someone as insignificant as her. "Hmm, yes." She'd leave the decision to him alone, as he moved to another subject.
"How can you even compare Gatsberry to any o' that?" She was believing less and less in the stranger's motives, but she knew it was not her place to be accusatory, nor did she want to. But she wondered if people knew of the fame the town had once had, or if they truly came in clueless, into the heart of a business that either sucked people in, or spit their bones out, keeping the sustenance. She, herlsef, was a big pile of old bones just making it through each day at a time.
With an almost quiet laugh in the back of her throat, Evelyn shook her head and took a step closer to Mr. McCoppin, sticking her fingernail and, consequently, the entirety of her index finger into a noticeable gap in the middle of the book. She pressed the rough edge to turn the considerable block of pages in his hands and sighed, still smiling as if dismissing the random acts of vandalism she was used to. "No one wants the books. They just take the bits they need." She crossed her arms over her chest, looking up to face Dean. "Or the bits they'd rather keep to themselves."
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"No man is an island."
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Post by Dean McCoppin on Jun 18, 2017 10:59:04 GMT -6
Dean smiled a bit at her question, seeing how it was an interesting one. His eyes darting up for a bit to focus on her, he tilted his head to the side, looking away when he started to think before his shoulders moved in a shrugging gesture. "Well, you know most of those cities began as little more than small settlements. Harbours, and...well, insginificant. Then, out of the blue, they turned into the center of our country. It took them decades, though. How does Gatsberry do it in a year?" he questioned her, his eyebrows raised before he nodded at her with a teasing grin, almost as if he had told her an incredibly funny joke.
Closing the book he had and placing it on the shelf without truly putting it away, Dean let his stare focus on the book Evelyn had presented him, frowning slightly at the damaged exemplary put in front of him. Placing his own fingers on the pages, he shook his head before focusing on her once again. "Think people want some things to be forgotten?"
He did wonder if any of the rich and the powerful in Gatsberry had skeletons in their closets so dangerous that they needed to erase parts of the town's History. Maybe there would be something juicy to get out of it. He'd figure it out in time.
"So, I'll be borrowing these you have. Couldn't hurt, right?" he now smiled with sympathy at her and her plight, taking a few steps back to go and look for his coat.
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Post by Deleted on Jun 18, 2017 11:57:32 GMT -6
"I know they do..." She knew it by personal experience, since she'd taken a couple of pages herself. Specifically pictures. Anyone who had a copy of this book at home would probably have it sitting in a shelf, with the same amount of dust the public library replica had on its bound. She worried about people like Dean, people who didn't know Gatsberry so they might pay more attention to detail.
When he moved, it took her a couple of seconds to realize he was heading for the door with three of her most well kept books. "Huh... what?" She inquired in a daze, hastening after him and ending up walking sideways next to him to carefully remove the books from his arms. "Well, no... You see." She stopped in front of him, halting him to a stop as well, and smiled politely, but with obvious annoyance displayed by the small wrinkles in her forehead. "As you said, people steal. And these are the only copies I have. And I don't see us being financed anytime soon, so..."
She didn't feel the need to finish her train of thoughts, holding the books protectively over her chest. He'd asked, and very well, if people tried to steal her books. Try would be the key word. She figured the amount of ripped pages had gone up since she demonstrated with with not only verbal violence that she'd keep the library running with no less than the amount of books she'd taken into her hands. She obviously didn't think she'd need to trip anyone else in the front step - which Evelyn had sworn was an accident. specially this guy, who seemed genuinely interested in the town's past, even if he wasn't being entirely honest about the whys.
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Post by Dean McCoppin on Jun 18, 2017 12:07:24 GMT -6
He blinked when her figure suddenly manifested in front of him, making him take a step back when he realized she had taken the books from his arms. Staring at his empty hands and then back at her with bewilderment, Dean shook his head quickly to adjust himself. "Oh, uhm...makes sense, I guess. I thought people wouldn't be interested in those, though?" he inquired her again, kind of weirded out at her sudden concern, even if he was not showing much of it.
Being unable to take these examplaries home would mean more trips to the public library to do his research, which he didn't truly mind, if he came to think of it. Just a small inconvenience. If anything, it would allow for more chats with Evelyn, who seemed to know more about Gatsberry than what she let on. Bringing his index finger to his lips to gently nibble on it as he thought, he focused on the tan skinned lady for a bit before shrugging. "I suppose I could still take my notes if I stayed here, though?"
There was some curiosity in his tone, but also some irony. He did not particularly like being denied things, and he was not petty about it, though he did get a bit annoyed at times. Peacefully hanging his coat next to her once more, Dean smiled and snatched one of the books from her hands again, stepping back into the middle of the building to lean against a wall in order to read it.
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Post by Deleted on Jun 18, 2017 12:19:49 GMT -6
She watched him attentively, trying to figure out if she'd have to get more serious about keeping her books in their rightful place or if he'd be alright with her request. "Well, you have!... What's to say others won't... right?" She kept thinking about her books, and how they were anything but hers. But she could honestly say books were all she had. Even though she had her own private collection at home, some in boxes due to the lack of space, or put away in a corner instead of being gracefully arranged by her various methods, she considered the old shelves of the library hers, as they were her responsibility.
Before she could answer his second question, she let out an obviously surprised exclamation as he snatched a book from her arms, leading her to almost let the remaining copies slide down into the ground. She'd manage to keep them in place with a little display of unwanted contortionism, following the man with her gaze the moment after she'd steadied herself.
What a puzzle piece was Dean McCoppin. She didn't know whether to be pleased or bothered that he'd be staying and coming over often. Her clients weren't usually as high maintenance. "You... do know we have tables?" She spoke, after a while of watching him read on his feet. "With chairs...?"
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"No man is an island."
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Post by Dean McCoppin on Jun 18, 2017 12:32:29 GMT -6
Dean was not known for being particularly orthodox. In fact, orthodox would probably be the last adjective someone would try to describe him with. He knew how to shoot a gun, drive a car, ask questions and be serious; yet what stood out was how casually he seemed to take everything in. Sometimes he wondered if it was because of that trait that he had been pushed towards this job in the first place. He could pass as a series of things, but a police officer was not the most common guess. Heck, he technically was not even a police officer anymore, so that guess would fall apart on whoever made it.
Looking up at Evelyn, he sent her a playful stare before focusing on the book again, playing around with the sheets until he found something that pleased his eyes. "I know. I'm just figuring out if I like this enough." he admitted with a shrug before closing the book and gently poking her head with it. "You really need to relax, Miss O'Connell" he advised with a smile, purposefuly drawing out the way he worded her last name before walking to the nearest by table and sitting down, opening the book.
As he took out a small notebook and a pen, scribbling on the empty sheets while reading, his expression turned more focused and serious, as if he was mechanicaly processing everything in the book before selecting what pleased him. "You know I'm just reading a book, right? No need to be so worried." he mentioned without taking his eyes of his activity.
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