He did his best to ignore the customer hovering too close to him, pushing his falling glasses up on his nose. Go away, go away, go away, his mind chanted, willing the customer to get bored and leave. The old, thick volumes were a comfortable weight in his hands, the aged pages yellow, the black ink grey. He turned his back on her and took dutiful steps forward toward the back. He would not be dealing with any living body today. Not his coworkers, not the customers, not the vendors – no one!If his boss didn’t like it, he could damn well fire him.
At this point, he would love a reason to clock the bastard. Right in the eyes or the nose. Perhaps a swift kick in the – Finn let out a snarl as his thoughts grew darker, tuning out the rest of the store as he kicked the ‘Employee Only’ door open. A rage was beginning to bubble – the source? He didn’t give a damn. Everyone expected him to do as they said. Don’t do this! Or Don’t do that! Don’t say anything, stop reading your useless books! Come back and work with the family – stop wasting your time and talent. Be a good boy now. “What the fuck am I?” the usually calm, peaceful voice stained with venom. “A fucking dog?!” Despite his rage, he gently set the books down. This was why he liked the written word a hell of a lot better than people. They knew when to leave him alone.
His ex-family, however, did not. Emphasis on the ex. Like he would ever consider those vultures of money cultists family.
And he wouldn’t take his rage out on the innocent pages. The books were probably the only things that would escape his ire. He patted them gently. He’d apologize to them later. Right now, he wanted to stew, bubble, simmer and then explode. Why did everyone always expect him to be the voice of reason?! Why couldn’t be the illogical one?! “I’m not some damn Spock! Or Data! Or Yoda!” And the next brat who asked him – “Hey, mister bookkeeper, where’s Twilight?” – he was going to lose it. Absolutely loose it.
“Finn?” He turned his vicious eyes to the source. Not the source of his anger, but damn how much he wanted it to be. A snarl to his lips signaled he was to be left alone. “Oh, I, uh, just… um, I’ll be out on the floor!” The young woman vanished behind the recently abused door. If he were a dragon, he’d be blowing fire and burn every damn thing. His hands curled into tight fists, nail drawing crescent moon blood. His eyes flickered back to the books, his gaze softening. Some days, he just wanted to be left alone and surrounded by books. Picking up a rather thick volume, he opened up to a random page. This would keep everyone else away from him.
After all, the only thing worse than a dragon foul mood bookkeeper was a foul mood bookkeeper who was disturbed while restoring books. After the fiasco three years ago… well, everyone loved the days when he was calm and dreaded the day when he became a dragon possessed.