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[b]Gabe’s place | The Librarian[/b]

The smile on his face grew wider as The Librarian tilted forwards to see his new master fill out the forms.

Of course, he didn’t really need to do that to see the words on the form - the information was easily accessible from the inside. Besides, given that he was now seeing through the screen, moving around inside the phone did practically nothing to his view of the interface for it was actually above him. Yet he had gotten into the habit of pretending that it did - more in the sense of gestures so that people knew where he was looking, than the movements themselves serving any functional purpose.

“...Bookman.”

Not exactly creative, but not bad either. Librarian. Book - man. Made sense. It had a nice ring to it as well, he’d say.

The key smiled at the memory of that one time his name was decided by a thirteen-year-old boy. Man, was that an adventure. But then the smile turned into something he struggled to maintain when he remember what eventually happened to said thirteen-year-old boy.

My, it was no time to randomly think about events that had long become the past, was it?

The Librarian shoved those thoughts aside and noticed his new master was done deciding his own username as well, and was starting to toss questions at him. The Librarian straightened his stance and his scarf, his eyebrows raised. This young man seemed quite interesting, in the sense that he appeared to be...ready. Or eager, even. As if he knew precisely what was coming up and couldn’t wait to jump right into it. As if he knew all along and was waiting for this to happen.

Maybe he should’ve pulled the information dump trick earlier. Would’ve been fun.

The key looked again at the young man, who was now well-dressed in an outfit reminiscent of some sort of...butler? Or a waiter of sorts, from the older times. The Librarian didn’t know - by any chance, he could actually be a man of such a profession.

He’ll have time to find out.

So will the young man, about his Key, and about that other world.

“Yes, this is indeed a PvP game. Excellent instincts.” The Librarian said, in reply to Gabe’s questions, all the while being secretly glad that PvP was an acronym that was already around the last time he visited.

“You will fight other players in the game. People like you. To the death. In a grand tournament. The eventual, sole remaining survivor will ascend to the throne to become the next almighty demon king.” he continued, delivering that sentence deliberately in a tone that made it impossible to decide whether it was intended as a joke - or, rather, in a tone that made interpretations in either direction equally justified and reasonable. The only thing that made such a statement possible was the abundance of material that the humans produced that included similar situations - sometimes he believed that some surviving player somewhere must also be an avid and influential writer.

Yeah, that was likely.

“...except, of course, according to common sense, there’s no way such a thing exists in real life.” He concluded, after what seemed to be that specific kind of laugh that one would let out after holding back for so long to deliver one of those jokes that relied on the coexistence of seriousness and absurdity.

“...Aaaand...I actually don’t know. How about this place?” He said, answering Gabe's second question as he wandered in small steps around the phone while appearing to be looking around Gabe’s room, eyes pointed straight out from the screen, as if trying to peer through a window pane: “Is this place still in Beta? Or did you sign up for the stress test?”

He smiled, and there was a pause. That little snippet of talk was probably supposed to be thought-provoking. Or philosophical, even. Or just outright boring. Or, more likely, a combination of more than one of the above. Either way, a pause would be appropriate.

“O-Mari,” He then said, in a sudden switch of attitude, his speech now rid of the frivolity that it once carried, and now sounding more like some sort of opera actor trying to hard to deliver the lines of Shakespearean play, even complete with that little bowing gesture: serious, but somehow not lacking in comedic value. Comedic value may or may not have been his intent. He also assumed that was how the name was to be pronounced, and frankly, if it wasn’t, he was still going to pronounce it that way regardless. “...my master. For now I ask one more favour of you: would you bother to fetch me - um - fetch that key you received - and go ahead and try to...open something.”

This was always the hardest part to explain. Ugh, the Key Shop and all its unnecessarily complicated, supposedly rich-in-metaphorical-meaning rituals…

...he probably had no right to complain, though.

“...oh and, um, don’t worry about the teeth.” He had reverted to the tone of normal speech, delivering the last miscellaneous warnings - lest accidents occur. Humans were known to be unreliable with their choices - or at least some of them. Precautions were probably not a hundred percent necessary, but they were certainly sufficient. “...And try not to open something such as the door to somewhere you...wouldn’t like to arrive at often. Or yourself, for that matter. Or - ” He thought for a moment. “ - actually, nevermind. I’ll start yelling at you when you’re doing something that you’re not supposed to.”

“...Now please proceed with the key.”