"I thought you knew what you were doing."

"Jenny, just go off and have your skinny latte and cronut."

"And leave you with piles of empty expresso shots around your goddamn papers? I mean there's caffeine and there's...jeez..." She mumbles.

"Jenny, seriously just...guide me a little. I lost the article and now I-"

"Fine, if you insist."

"Well cheers."

"I'm on about the cronut."

"Jenny-"

"Don't worry," She peels out of her grasp and skips stiffly across the wooden floor, with a mischievous beam of mischievousness. "You reminded me that I need to be rewarded."

"You text me that you woke up late. You've been here ten minutes. You've been on your phone the whole time. You..."

"I deserve a cronut. You'll be great without me," Her thumbs flair, the bones of intellectualism and the respectful role to investigate her kind's past still radiating in the eyes of Lyra, despite being a student renegade.

"But I'm stuck."

"You'll be great. Just express-o yourself." Jenny winks. He groans.

For a set of hours in the student library, Mikal was trailing a finger until his skin split and cut across jagged papers of history. He imagined all the traces and fingertips and places and tabletops and notes and coffee stains that had painted across the shredded trees through the networks of epochs. Time was a curious thing, and not even by supernatural means.

His eyes flared to the Egyptian era and the time of the Greeks and the Romans and the Etruscans even; the time of the Gods. Mikal wondered if they were true; "perhaps their beliefs at that time meant something? The intricate powers of the supernatural and of the powerful, yet all evanescenced, including people's beliefs. What if the ancient Greek Gods in fact were truly true and alive. Perhaps it's much more than all that. Perhaps giants lived in the Stone-age or the Bronze-age and thus built Stonehenge? Why don't I just become a goddamn theoretical historian?"

Mikal smiled at himself and even have out an unnecessary snicker when Jenny flounced back in with another expresso shot or two, and a fat doughnut wedge in her big fat gob.

Cover Bit 2

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