There are some people who might find this moment—a beast's first forays into the wide world of the written world—moving. How lovely a thing, to witness such genuine curiosity first hand. It is the sort of thing which begs mentoring, kindness which might in turn beget some sense of pride. Teaching is a reward in and of itself; no doubt there are individuals within this very castle who might think so.

Michael Ralston is not among them.

He snaps his prize volume shut and tucks it under an arm. With a withering look for the rest of the volumes— "I would strongly advise you put them back and forget you ever cracked a book. Academia is a miserable business."

Click. The foot of the borrowed cane as Ralston, object in hand, turns to extract himself from this particular library stack.