[ There's a small boy standing a few feet away from Jughead in the psychology section, balancing a towering stack of books against his hip with one arm, and brandishing a magic wand at the shelves with his free hand. The wand is unmistakably childish, it looks like the sort of thing you'd buy at a toy store, it's made of lacquered wood and has a yellow star at the end and everything. When the kid aims it at a certain book on the top shelf, a ghostly blue hand emanates from the star and reaches for the book... but the kid's so wrapped up in the spell that he doesn't notice the stack of books he's holding tipping over, until they tumble to the ground in a noisy avalanche of True Crime novels and nonfiction books about the criminal justice system.
Angus recoils at the mess and commotion and stares at Jughead, absolutely mortified. ]
Ohmygosh. I'm sorry, sir! I'll... hang on, I'll get this cleaned up...!
one!
Angus recoils at the mess and commotion and stares at Jughead, absolutely mortified. ]
Ohmygosh. I'm sorry, sir! I'll... hang on, I'll get this cleaned up...!