Shadows Between the Shelves (closed for Lotus_Maiden)

[Mr_Positive]

Name: Lucas "Luke" Callahan
Age: 42
Appearance: Luke is tall, standing at 6’2”, with a lean but muscular build. His face is ruggedly handsome, with faint scars that hint at his past. He has piercing blue eyes, short dark hair with streaks of gray at the temples, and a perpetually guarded expression.

Background:
Luke spent two decades as an operative for an elite, covert intelligence agency, specializing in infiltration, hand-to-hand combat, and counterintelligence. His missions took him across the globe, requiring him to assume countless identities and live a life of deception. After a mission went disastrously wrong, costing him his closest partner, Luke chose to retire. The guilt and disillusionment with his work made him crave peace.
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Luke Callahan stepped into the Seabrook Library, the chill of the December air still clinging to his coat and boots. He paused just inside the doorway, his sharp blue eyes scanning the space with an instinctive thoroughness. It was a habit he couldn’t quite shake, even now, in the quiet corners of a sleepy village where threats were supposed to be nonexistent.

The library was warm, a sharp contrast to the frosted world outside. Garlands of pine and twinkling lights decorated the banisters, and the faint scent of pine mingled with old books. Luke exhaled slowly, as if releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He tugged his gloves off, stuffing them into the pockets of his dark wool coat, and wandered toward the shelves.

The place reminded him of somewhere he used to go as a boy, long before life got complicated. Rows of books stretched out before him, a sanctuary of stories, facts, and forgotten secrets. He ran a hand along the spines of the nearest row, letting his fingers brush against the titles. Fiction. Mysteries. Classics. It was all here, untouched by the chaos of the world he’d left behind.

The world he was still trying to escape.

Luke found himself at the back of the library, in a small reading nook lit by the soft glow of a table lamp. He shrugged off his coat and settled into one of the armchairs, its upholstery threadbare but comfortable. A book sat on the side table, its title catching his eye: The Spy Who Came in from the Cold. A wry smile tugged at his lips. Of course.

He picked it up, flipping through the pages without much thought. He wasn’t here to read, not really. The library had become a place of refuge for him these past weeks, somewhere to blend into the background. A place where he could think. Or stop thinking.

But even here, his past had a way of finding him. He had seen the same black sedan twice this morning—parked on Main Street, then again near the post office. Coincidence, maybe. But Luke didn’t believe in coincidences. He leaned back in the chair, the book open in his lap, and let his eyes drift to the window.

Snow was falling in lazy spirals, blanketing the town in a pristine white hush. Everything looked peaceful, untouched. But Luke knew better than most that appearances were often deceiving.

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

“Cappuccino for Marcy.”

Almost immediately an arm pushed apart a wall of shoulders and emerged a petite five feet and barely two inches Marcy Park in a red plaid overcoat reaching for the drink. “Mahalo,” she thanked before pivoting for the door.

It was surprising how many people are able to cramp in the tiny Café Monte. It was much busier than she remembered. Although the local population remained closely the same, there were much more out of towners visiting the small town feel and serene sceneries. Then again, her memory of town was over a decade old. It wasn't surprising that businesses and popularity picked up over the years. Seabrook had a little of everything, from pristine coastline to luscious parks, from mom-and-pop stores to bougie outlets, from natural skylines to festive lights on every street poles and business fronts. Even the weather at Seabrook was cooperating with light dusty snow showers here and there. A white Christmas was in the making.

Marcy sipped of the liquid gold as she strolled leisurely for a few blocks through the town square. She finished half of the drink when she arrived at the steps of the town one and only library. This place held so many of her childhood memories. It was the meeting point for school fieldtrips as well as social gatherings. And now, it had become her work place in the last few months.

She moved back to Seabrook at the start of this summer. She just needed a short break from the hustling and bustling city life. At least that had been the story she tells people. In reality, well, she wasn’t ready to address it in the open. Instead, she needed to focus the immediate task at hand, which was climbing up the few dozen steps and opening up the library.

Marcy went through the morning routine before unlocking the front door and then settling at circular service desk / check out desk / break area / office space in the center of the library. She was tapping away on the one and only computer to check and notify the overdue accounts when the front door swung open.

“Welcome to Seabrook Library,” she greeted as soon as she felt the rush of chilly air. She shivered. The muted red knitted turtleneck dress might look cozy; the sharpness of the wind easily pricked through the space between the yarns. At least the black knee-length boots and leggings kept her legs and thighs warm. She looked up from the computer to find an unfamiliar figure pausing at the doorway. She took in the sight of him as his sharp blue eyes scanned the place. He was handsome with a serious, almost out of place kind of vibe.

When their eyes met briefly, she smiled and offered, “Let me know if you need any help.” She then went back to her screen as he wandered off.

When she completed checking on the accounts, she stacked a few more books on the return cart and wheeled them toward the shelves. She hummed classic Christmas tunes as she put back the books in their rightful shelves. She came to the reading nook with only a couple left on the cart and found the lone visitor.

“A spy huh,” she said looking up from the book in his hands to him.

 

[Mr_Positive]

Luke glanced up from the book, his piercing blue eyes locking briefly on the librarian. Her comment hung in the air, lighthearted, but it still stirred an uncomfortable twinge in his chest. A spy, huh? If only she knew.

"Something like that," he replied, his voice even, with a faint trace of dry humor. He closed the book gently, resting it on his knee. "Thought it might be good for a laugh. Professional critique, maybe."

He offered a faint smile, but his mind was already working, scanning her expression for any sign of recognition. Had she seen something? Heard something? His cover had held so far in Seabrook, but paranoia wasn’t easily silenced. He reminded himself that her observation was likely innocent—just a librarian making small talk.

Still, Luke shifted slightly in his chair, angling himself to keep her in his peripheral vision while still appearing relaxed. He leaned back, drumming his fingers lightly on the book's cover. "Not much of a holiday read, though," he added, his tone casual. "Got anything lighter you'd recommend?"

His words came easily, as they always did. Years of slipping into roles had made him an expert at blending in. But here, in this quiet corner of a small-town library, there was a strange comfort in not having to play a role—at least not entirely. The librarian seemed kind, approachable. That made her both reassuring and dangerous. People like her had a way of drawing others in, breaking down walls. And Luke couldn't afford that.

As she responded, he nodded along, watching her more than listening. Her movements were efficient, her tone warm and unguarded. He envied that, in a way. To her, this was just another day in Seabrook, another conversation with a passerby. For him, every interaction was calculated, every word weighed.

"Appreciate it," he said finally, his tone light but firm, signaling an end to the exchange. As she moved away, Luke let his eyes follow her for a moment before returning to the book in his lap. He opened it again, scanning the lines but absorbing none of the words.

What are you doing, Callahan? he thought.

He wasn’t here to connect. He wasn’t here to build relationships or linger in conversations that could tug at old scars. He was here to stay invisible. To wait out whatever storm might be brewing on his horizon.

But something about this place—about her—felt different. Dangerous in a way he hadn’t anticipated.​

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

Marcy couldn’t help from smiling when their eyes met briefly again. Her attention locked on his face while he spoke. After a few seconds, she concluded that she in fact doesn’t know him, because she would’ve remembered those piercing blue eyes anywhere regardless how many years may pass.

“Professional critique, maybe,” he said with a faint smile. If it wasn’t for the slightly curled lips, Marcy would have apologized for being a bother since his tone and expression were so even and dry.

“Ah, a self-critic. That’s the worst kind,” she lightly joked. She just finished putting up the last two books on the shelf when he asked for a recommendation. “Oh! How about a classic. One sec.”

She scooted to a few shelves away and returned with a thin, barely 200 pages book. The hard cover is bright red with green framing and gold lettering. She offered it to him with both hands while announced in a fake mysterious voice, “The Nutcracker and the Mouse King.”

Quickly followed up with, “And yes, it’s an actual novel and not just the ballet play. Though if you like the ballet version, the local theatre is putting up a few showings until Christmas. I've been meaning to see one. Support local, right?”

“Appreciate it,” he firmly said and he took the book. His expression unchanged. He wasn’t rude nor seem annoyed still, but definitely disinterested in her presence.

Her well-manicured fingers tapping the side of her thighs while she said, “Alrighty then. I’ll leave you to it. Let me know what you think about it. Promise?"

Marcy then pivoted and wheeled the empty cart back to circular service area. She hummed the Christmas Cannon along the way. Settling back in the one-man desk, she alternated her attention between the computer and the lone customer. Although he seemed to be reading the pages, she couldn’t tell if he is or is not enjoying the book.

I wouldn’t want to play poker with him, she jokingly thought to herself.

Whenever they happened to catch each other’s curious gaze, Marcy beamed a wide smile, both as an encouragement to continue reading and unprompted determination to get more from that stoic expression. She bet his smile, true, wide and genuine one, would light up a room.

 

[Mr_Positive]

Luke sat in the reading nook, the slim red book resting in his hands. His thumb brushed over the embossed gold lettering on the cover, a small frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. The Nutcracker and the Mouse King. Not exactly his typical reading material. Then again, he wasn’t exactly living his typical life anymore.

He leaned back in the chair, his long frame sinking into the worn upholstery, and opened the book to its first page. The words blurred slightly, his mind wandering back to the librarian’s voice. Friendly, bright, almost disarming. She had an easy warmth about her, the kind that invited conversation and connection without ever forcing it. Luke wasn’t used to that. Most of his interactions—his real ones, anyway—had always been laced with ulterior motives. There was something oddly unsettling about her sincerity.

A movement from across the room caught his attention. The librarian, Marcy, was back at her desk, humming softly to herself. Her cheerful tune drifted faintly across the quiet library, a stark contrast to the subdued hush of the space. Every now and then, she’d glance his way, her expression curious and unguarded, a small smile breaking through when their eyes met.

Luke lowered his gaze to the book again, feigning interest in the pages. Poker face, huh? he thought, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. If she knew how much practice he’d had hiding his thoughts, she might not bother trying to crack him.

The thought lingered for a moment longer than he expected, and his smirk faded. He turned a page, not really reading, just letting the motion settle his mind. People like her—open, friendly, trusting—weren’t built for the kind of shadows he carried. Whatever curiosity she had about him, it was best if it stayed just that: curiosity. The last thing he needed was someone getting too close, asking too many questions. Not when his past had a way of showing up uninvited.

He sighed quietly, running a hand through his hair, then leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the book dangling loosely in one hand. The librarian’s humming had stopped, replaced by the soft tapping of her fingers on the desk keyboard. He glanced at her again, almost involuntarily, and was met with another one of her smiles. Bright. Effortless. It caught him off guard, as if she hadn’t noticed the air of disinterest he’d deliberately put between them.

For a second, Luke debated just leaving. Returning the book to the nearest shelf, offering a polite nod, and stepping out into the cold. But something about the smallness of the space, the coziness of the library, rooted him in place. Or maybe it was the librarian herself, with her determination to crack his exterior. He wasn’t sure, and that uncertainty annoyed him.

He sat back again, flipping another page. "Not exactly what I expected," he murmured under his breath, loud enough that it could pass for a stray thought or a comment meant to be overheard. He kept his eyes on the book but felt her attention shift toward him, her presence a steady warmth in the background.

Luke let the silence linger for a beat longer before adding, "But I’ll give it a chance." His voice was calm, neutral, betraying nothing but the faintest trace of amusement. He could practically feel her grin from across the room.

Shaking his head lightly, Luke refocused on the book, letting the words finally pull him in. Just a book, he reminded himself. Just a quiet afternoon in a quiet town. Nothing more.