Book Worms (Zeb)

[Thomas Legrand II]

Late night shifts were run by coffee. That was how Thomas always thought of it. And that was why, around 11 PM, Thomas went to the lounge, yawning, for his pick-me-up. He was in his usual coveralls, and rolled the cart over to the lounge. There he left it, outside the door. Not a lot of people usually messed with his cleaning supplies. For one thing, it was boring. For another, everything there was extremely caustic. Lastly, Thomas was also known to not be afraid of bringing matters directly up with Dr. Neville or Yvette. Therefore, his stuff got left alone, and Thomas could live in peace. Which was good, because right now he was really craving coffee. He made it into the lounge and glanced at his watch. He had a fifteen minute break coming up. Might as well use it now. A book appeared from one of his pockets, and Thomas settled down in a chair to read it. His eyes flickered up as the door opened, and he seemed surprised when someone walked in. Very surprised. People didn’t usually come in on the evening shift.

“Hello,” he greeted. “Zeb, isn’t it?” He’d been introduced to everyone as they came and went but periodically he’d forget. And he didn’t get to meet a lot of people on the job. “I didn’t realize anyone but me spent time here this late. Sit down and join me for coffee.”

[Zebadiah Hayes]

Zeb was always run by coffee, whether during the late night or midday. He usually lost count of how many cups of coffee he'd had around 11 AM.

Usually by this time of the night most of the students were starting to wind down and Zeb felt like he could have a little bit of down time. Of course there was always the chance that he would be needed for something, so even if he had been able to get to sleep this early, he wouldn't have started to turn in yet.

He was doing a bit of wandering around, sometimes all a dorm monitor needed to do to keep the peace was to make his presence known, when he figured he'd pop into the staff lounge. He hadn't expected anyone to be inside, so he was a bit surprised to find someone sitting in there.

"Yes, it is," Zeb said, smiling at the man. He paused for a moment trying to recall the janitors name. "Mr. Legrand, how are you this evening? And coffee sounds great." Zeb said, grabbing himself a mug full before finding himself a seat and slumping into it. After rubbing his eyes a bit, he looked up to see that Thomas was holding a book. "What are you reading?" he asked, clearly interested.

[Thomas Legrand II]

Thomas nodded his head. “That’s me. Coffee it is.” He set the book down and seemed ready to climb to his feet to prepare the coffee, but Zeb had already taken care of it. All right then. Thomas shrugged and settled back down into the chair, picking back up the book. He could rarely not be holding one in his hand. “I am doing well. I trust you are as well. Late night shifts can be a terrible thing.” He offered the man a crooked smile and took a sip from his mug, sighing. Sometimes he didn’t think he could survive without the stuff.

“What—Oh.” He lifted the book. “Les Miserables. Not my normal fare but good enough.” And due to his father he could successfully read it in the original French. The book was slightly too modern for his tastes, but every now and then it was a good thing to get his head out of medieval literature. Besides, playing at Jean Valjean was always an enjoyable experience. A tormented soul, yes, but a complex one. “Are you fond of literature?” After all, most people didn’t ask about what he was reading, especially when it always looked large and complicated.

[Zebadiah Hayes]

Zeb slouched deeper into his seat, holding the cup of warm coffee close to his face as if somehow even the seem was caffeinated. It was still warm enough outside that he wasn't huddling over the mug for warmth. But coffee was a bit like his security blanket.

"Wow," Zeb said, clearly impressed. Though he had noticed that it was a fairly thick book, he hadn't expected to be something of such merit. "I've never read it myself, would you recommend it?" Though Zeb did enjoy the classics, he was more of a modernist, especially when it came to fiction.

"I would say so," Zeb answered, taking a small sip from his coffee and hoping not to burn his tongue. "I read a lot when I can't sleep." He said it as if his insomnia was a normal, non-troubling thing even though there were clearly bags under his eyes. "What's your normal fare, then?"

[Thomas Legrand II]

Thomas studied the book and then seemed to debate this silently, head tilted to the side. “Honestly?” He shrugged. “I am not sure that I would. I mean, it has its merits. But in terms of a light read…” He chuckled. “Let’s just say it’s not. But it does have good parts, I think. And it moves quicker than most things I read. “He tilted his head to the side. “Were you considering it, or do you tend to prefer other types of books?”

Thomas nodded. Insomnia wasn’t a particularly normal thing for him but he could sympathize. In this school especially there tended to be quite a bit of insomnia. “Ah. Then this book might be perfect for you.” He offered him a smile. “My normal fare is medieval literature. Is the insomnia from the power or just a personal…issue? You’re free not to answer.” He smiled crookedly. “I’m always a little nosy.” 

[Zebadiah Hayes]

Zeb laughed at the Thomas' joke. The book the other man was holding was definitely not something he would consider light. Then again Zeb's usual reading was books of poetry, which were much thinner. He enjoyed them for that because he could easily slip one into his back pocket.

"I'm usually more of a poetry man, myself," Zeb explained. "Though I do pick up the classics now and then for a change of pace." Sometimes it was nice to have something long to read at night. For some reason having something that took forever to get through made the night seem shorter by comparison.

"Like King Arthur?" he asked. That was pretty much his extent of what medieval literature meant. And that was only because of Disney movies.

Zeb paused at the question. He did mind questions. But he also didn't really enjoy discussing his own personal problems. "It's a power thing. No big deal," he answered, figuring that should be enough to satisfy the other man's curiosity.

"Why are you workin so late tonight?" Zeb asked, figuring that would swing the conversation back to safer topics.

[Thomas Legrand II]

Thomas’s lips curved up as Zeb laughed. He wasn’t one for laughing at his own joke, certainly not. But he always liked it when someone got his jokes. It was a pleasure, especially when one worked with students so frequently. Students didn’t really get…book jokes.

“Ah.” Thomas could appreciate poetry also, although his tastes tended to revert to very old things rather than newer materials. Old poetry was also challenging in many different ways because if you did not translate it correctly a lot of the meaning was lost. He could do some translations, but not all. He wasn’t that much of an expert in dead languages. He’d spent more time running businesses and cleaning things these days. “What are some of your favorite poets? I’m fond of Sappho myself, but there are some others I enjoy reading.”

He laughed. “That’s a main one. There are others.”

The question seemed to be…uncomfortable. But as Thomas knew all about “power things” he could sympathize and just nodded. “Understood.” And he didn’t bring it up again.

His lips quirked up. “In this school, you’re asking that? There’s always something to clean up. Haven’t you seen that yet? You live on the campus, though. Is wandering the halls this late part of your duties?” 

[Zebadiah Hayes]

"I have to admit I'm more modern even in poetry," Zeb said, offering a shrug. Though he wouldn't really consider Whitman "modern", he had a feeling someone who preferred medieval times would. He turned his head at the name, it sounded vaguely familiar. Maybe something he had come across in high school. Then again, if he had seen it written, he would have had no clue he, or she, was a poet at all.

"I guess I have to say Wallace Stevens, Poe, and Cummings are my favorite. Since I found their lines worthy to be tattooed on me," he shrugged again. "But at the moment I'm reading a stuff by Charles Rafferty." Though Zeb was starting to wonder if the poet was a pyro. A lot of his poems dealt with fire and arson.

Zeb had assumed, perhaps wrongly he couldn't recall at the moment, that Thomas was the head janitor. Possible because of the man's age. Even though he wasn't all that old, something about Thomas just gave off a vibe of age and wisdom. Now he was thinking it was because of the other man's interests in older things. So Zeb hadn't figured that Thomas would schedule himself the late shift.

"This is true," Zeb said simply. Kids could sure make a mess. Especially kids with abilities. He laughed a little at Thomas's question. "Sort of?" It was his duty to keep things in the dorms under control. And with teenagers living in close quarters that meant some nighttime supervision.

"Really it's more letting the kids know I'm around," he explained. Sometimes they needed comfort in knowing he was there. Sometimes it helped deter those who might think late at night was a good time to try to get away with things too.

[Thomas Legrand II]

Thomas laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I studied medieval literature at university. You might say my tastes have always been archaic. But…” He shrugged. “I don’t mind.” Sappho was a poet, only she was Greek. Ancient Greek. Not exactly medieval literature but Thomas found her material to be extremely…feeling. He’d enjoyed it quite a bit even though it hadn’t been his realm of studying.

“Poe?” Thomas’s brows climbed. “Interesting choice. I wouldn’t have pegged that. You seem too…” he hesitated. “Forgive me for saying so, but normal. I find Poe has gained ground with the more—angsty teenagers this day. He’s not a bad poet by any means, quite impressive, but…” He shrugged. “Cummings, however, is brilliant. I’m not familiar with Rafferty.”

Thomas was not the head janitor. Nor had he ever particularly desired that post because it offered responsibility that, frankly, he had been doing everything in his power to avoid for most of his life. No, he wasn’t that old. And yes, he probably could’ve gotten a different shift. But he liked the night time and it liked him. It was a good combination.

He smiled. “Sort of? So do you like doing it then?” He nodded. “I do too, as it happens. It’s quiet here. And for once, not full of explosions or swearing.”

“Ah.” He tilted his head to the side. “For help or for warning, I wonder? You don’t have to answer.”

[Zebadiah Hayes]

Zeb laughed a little at the link between Poe and angsty teenagers. “It’s true, Poe had a bit of a dark side. And I’ve always though his fiction was better than his poetry,” he admitted with a shrug. “Still the man was a genius…a mad…sad genius maybe, but still a genius.” Poe hadn’t had the easiest of lives either. And though Zeb had often wondered what the man’s dreams had been like, he was also glad he’d never visited them.

“Rafferty is a bit newer, just published his ninth book? I could be wrong about that number.” He shrugged again. “I could let you borrow one if you’d like?” Zeb had picked up a few of the man’s books over the years.

“I’m up anyways, might as well be productive,” Zeb explained, again shrugging. And then smiling a little as he realized that he seemed to be stuck with that gesture. “I enjoy the quiet too. I can actually read a book…and hear myself think.” It was nice finding another night owl.

“Both,” Zeb answered with a smile. “So how late you here tonight?” He didn’t want to upset Thomas’ schedule, especially if the janitor was hoping to head home soon.

[Thomas Legrand II]

Thomas would agree with that assessment. Then again, he generally preferred fiction to poetry, with some very few things being the exception to the rule. Still, even he could agree with the fact that Poe was a genius. A creepy, mentally disturbed genius, but definitely a genius. “Certainly,” he agreed. “A dreadfully tormented genius but I agree, his writing was superb, especially in his fiction.”

Ninth book. Not exactly newer then. But then, Thomas considered e e cummings and Robert Frost to be new. He had those kinds of old fashioned views on life.

He laughed. “Yes, isn’t it? The only downside for working nights is that I can’t stay home with my books anymore.” When he’d been working for his father he hadn’t managed that either. Too busy doing accounts and the like. All in all, he preferred it here. Work stayed at work. You couldn’t do janitorial stuff from home, after all. It was…nice.

“Oh, midnight. Two A.M. Depends on how long I need to be here. And…” He smiled. “How long I make my break. There’s always something to do here. What about you? How long do they have you on emergency call for?”