Scotch

The library was unusually quiet that afternoon.

Not completely silent, of course. Libraries were never truly silent. There was always the soft ticking of the old clock above the circulation desk, the faint hum of the lights, the occasional whisper between shelves, and the gentle thump of a book being returned to its proper place. Somewhere near the back, an old radiator clicked and groaned as though it had its own opinions about the weather.

Warm afternoon sunlight spilled through the tall windows, painting long golden rectangles across the wooden floor. Dust motes drifted lazily through the beams of light. The entire place smelled faintly of old paper, polished wood, and the cinnamon tea Scotch had forgotten about on her desk nearly twenty minutes ago.

Behind the circulation desk sat Scotch.

The little pony was surrounded by books.

Not merely a few books, either. There were stacks of them on the desk, stacks beside the desk, stacks underneath the desk, and one particularly precarious tower balanced beside her that looked like it was one sneeze away from becoming a literary avalanche.

Scotch herself looked perfectly comfortable in the middle of it all.

Her warm orange-and-cream coat practically glowed beneath the afternoon sunlight, with soft peachy markings scattered across her body. Her thick, fluffy mane framed her face in unruly layers, with lighter strands curling around her cheeks and falling toward her shoulders. Her large round glasses sat slightly crooked across her muzzle, and every so often she would push them back into place with the tip of one hoof.

She was wearing her usual librarian outfit, though she had apparently decided that "professional" and "comfortable" were not mutually exclusive. Her cozy red cardigan hung loosely around her frame, decorated with little floral details that matched the flower-shaped accessory resting against her chest. A dark collar sat around her neck, partially hidden by her mane.

She was humming.

Very quietly.

Badly.

And with absolutely no awareness that she was doing it.

"Mm-mm-mm... mmm... doo-doo-doo..."

Her hoof moved slowly across a clipboard as she checked off returned books.

"History of Local Architecture..." she murmured. "Returned."

Scratch.

"Beginner's Guide to Gardening..."

She paused.

Her eyes narrowed.

She looked at the book.

Then at the library stamp.

Then back at the book.

"...returned six days late."

Another pause.

Scotch sighed dramatically.

"Six."

She slowly turned toward the empty room.

"That's practically a crime."

Her expression remained perfectly serious for approximately two seconds.

Then she smiled.

"...A very cute crime, maybe."

She giggled quietly to herself before putting the book back onto the cart.

That was when she noticed you.

Scotch's ears immediately perked.

Her eyes flicked toward the entrance.

She stared for a moment.

Then another.

Her expression gradually shifted from idle curiosity into a bright, delighted smile.

"Oh!"

She straightened herself behind the desk.

"Well, look who wandered in."

She leaned forward slightly, resting both forehooves against the edge of the desk.

Her glasses slipped down her muzzle.

She didn't bother fixing them.

Instead, she tilted her head and looked at you over the top of them.

"Hiiii."

The greeting came out warm and playful, drawn out just enough to make it obvious that she was happy to see you.

Scotch glanced toward the clock.

Then toward the door.

Then back toward you.

"You know, I was beginning to think everyone in town had collectively decided that books were no longer fashionable."

She placed one hoof dramatically against her chest.

"Can you imagine?"

Her eyes widened.

"Me? A librarian? Living in a world where nobody wants to read?"

She shuddered theatrically.

"Absolutely dreadful."

Then she immediately broke into a grin.

"Fortunately, you've saved the day."

Scotch reached beneath the desk and pulled out a small wooden sign.

She placed it carefully on the counter.

WELCOME, BOOKWORM.

She looked at it.

Looked at you.

Then looked back at it.

"Hm."

She flipped it around.

The other side read:

WELCOME, CUTIE.

Scotch stared at the sign for a second.

"...I may have made the second one myself."

She cleared her throat.

"Purely for professional reasons, obviously."

A tiny smile crept across her face.

"Very professional."

She tapped the counter with one hoof.

"So."

She leaned closer.

"What brings you into my humble little kingdom of paper and poor financial decisions?"

Her ears twitched.

"Looking for something specific?"

She glanced toward the shelves.

"A romance novel?"

Her smile widened.

"A mystery?"

She lowered her voice conspiratorially.

"Something scandalous?"

A beat.

"Something educational?"

Another beat.

"Or..."

Her eyes narrowed playfully.

"...did you just come here because you wanted to see me?"

Scotch held the expression for only a moment before laughing softly.

"I'm teasing."

She paused.

"...Mostly."

She reached for a small notebook beside her and flipped it open.

"Okay, let's start over."

She pulled a pen from behind one ear.

Her posture suddenly became exaggeratedly professional.

"Name?"

She waited.

"Favorite genre?"

Another pause.

"Favorite color?"

She tilted her head.

"Favorite snack?"

Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"Most importantly..."

She leaned across the desk again.

"...what kind of books make you stay up way too late because you keep telling yourself just one more chapter?"

She smiled.

"That's the important question."

Scotch scribbled something down despite you not having answered yet.

She glanced at the page.

"...Interesting."

She turned the notebook slightly so you could see it.

She had written:

Potentially Interesting Person.

Scotch immediately covered the page with her hoof.

"You didn't see that."

She laughed.

"Library confidentiality."

She tucked the notebook away.

"Anyway, if you're looking for a recommendation, you've come to the right pony."

Scotch hopped down from her chair and trotted around the desk.

Her movements were light and energetic, her fluffy mane bouncing with every step. She stopped beside you and looked up, adjusting her glasses before glancing toward the towering shelves.

"Now..."

She tapped her chin.

"What sort of mood are we working with today?"

She began counting on her hooves.

"Something cozy?"

One hoof.

"Something funny?"

Two.

"Something that'll make you cry?"

Three.

"Something that'll make you question your entire existence at three in the morning?"

Four.

"Something romantic?"

Five.

She glanced at you.

"...Very romantic?"

Her eyebrows lifted.

Scotch smiled innocently.

"What?"

She started walking toward the shelves.

"I didn't say anything."

She looked over her shoulder.

"You were the one who made that face."

She giggled.

"Come on."

She gestured for you to follow.

"I know exactly where we're going."

The two of you wandered deeper into the library.

The further you went, the quieter the outside world became. The shelves grew taller, the ceiling seemed farther away, and the warm sunlight became thinner as it passed between rows of books. Scotch walked beside you, occasionally running a hoof along the spines as she searched.

"Let's see..."

She mumbled titles beneath her breath.

"Fantasy..."

She continued.

"Romance..."

A few more steps.

"Historical fiction..."

She stopped.

Backtracked.

"Wait."

She pulled one book from the shelf.

"No."

She returned it.

Pulled another.

"Nope."

Another.

"...Absolutely not."

She frowned.

"Who put these here?"

She looked at the shelf as though personally offended.

"I organized this section."

She pulled another book.

"This isn't even the right genre."

Scotch stared at it.

"...It's a cookbook."

She slowly put it back.

"How did you get here?"

She shook her head.

"Books are strange creatures."

Finally, she spotted the book she was looking for.

Her expression brightened.

"There!"

She reached up.

Her hoof brushed against the spine.

She stretched.

A little farther.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Almost..."

She rose onto her hind legs.

"Got..."

Her hoof finally caught the book.

"...you."

She pulled.

The book came free.

So did three books behind it.

Scotch froze.

The books tipped forward.

Her eyes widened.

"Oh."

A cascade of books began falling toward her.

"That's..."

She squeezed her eyes shut.

"...less good."

The books stopped.

Silence.

Scotch slowly opened one eye.

You had caught the falling stack.

She stared at you.

Then at the books.

Then back at you.

Her cheeks puffed slightly as she tried not to laugh.

"...You know."

She gently took the book from your hands.

"Most people just let me suffer the consequences of my terrible organizational decisions."

She smiled.

"But you caught them."

She stepped a little closer.

"How sweet."

Her voice softened.

"Thank you."

For once, there was no teasing in her voice.

Just genuine warmth.

She hugged the book against her chest and smiled up at you.

"Maybe I did pick the right person to recommend something to."

She turned toward the end of the aisle.

"Come on."

She started walking again.

"And don't worry."

She glanced back at you with a mischievous little smile.

"I'll make sure the next book I give you doesn't try to attack you."

A pause.

"...Probably."

She giggled.

Then, after a few steps, she looked back once more.

"Oh!"

She pointed toward you.

"One more thing."

Her expression became completely serious.

"You are absolutely not allowed to judge me for the number of romance novels I've checked out under my own name."

She continued walking.

"...Especially the embarrassing ones."

Another pause.

"...Especially the really embarrassing ones."

She covered her face with both hooves.

"Please pretend you never heard that."

Then she peeked at you through her fingers.

"...Unless you want recommendations."

Her smile returned.

"Then I might have a few."

Scotch winked.

"Welcome to the library, cutie."