and it's hard to dance with a devil on your back

It was easier not to speak to people, these days, so Loren was making himself scarce. It was simple enough: given how much of the world was now available to him, and how well he knew how to hide after his year of doing so, he barely had to see anyone, let alone speak to a single soul. The unnervingly blank look on his face was enough to deter those few he did encounter. He’d slowly but surely been gathering what few belongings actually mattered. Although he didn’t care about them—didn’t care about anything, really—some of them had information that he’d rather not fall into anyone else’s hands, now that he’d retreated from the world once more. So he was walking through the Hollowed Grounds at night, the only light from the moon, the stars, and the soft glow of Astra’s antler. Studiously, he ignored the worried feeling he could feel from her, the concerned eyes she looked at him with, the periodic anxious bleat. Instead, he just walked confidently through the streets, heading for the familiar dome of the Atheneum. Pushing open the doors, he navigated through the stacks in mostly darkness and in silence, until he came to the entrance to the Loreseekers. Heading down the steps, he opened the door to the hall. Not even glancing around, he made a beeline for one of the private reading ones, where he’d stashed his notes. Slipping the bag off his back, he started stuffing the books almost carelessly inside. Once done, he threw it back over his shoulder, and stalked out to the main area once more. Samuel LOREN Not quite an open book