"Bonjour!" Femio said, kicking the library doors open. "Your Prince who loves everyone-and is loved by everyone-has arrived!"

"Would you please be quiet!" Autor shouted back from his desk.

Seeing a new face, Femio pirouetted in a shower of rose petals over to the grouchy boy. "Why, monsieur, are you not a fan of-"

"No," Autor growled. "Now see yourself out. You have no business here."

"Ohh? Have you not ever heard of the precepts of"-and here he grasped Autor's cravat, pulling him forward-"princely love?"

Gasping, Autor felt heat bloom on his face like a peony. "N-No," he said, startlement giving way to honesty. "I don't even know what lov-"

"Non? You do not know-! Ah! I have come to you when you are not ready!" Femio squealed. He thrust his hands above his head. "HEAVENS! POUR JUDGMENT UPON-!"

"Not in the library!" Autor cried, tackling the other boy around the shoulders. Seizing his collar, the librarian tossed the danseur onto the street.

"THIS SINN-ACK!"

The bulls ran, and Autor slammed the doors shut. Students craned their necks to watch him straightening his uniform, and Lille and Pique giggled to one another, whispering about his ruffled state.

"Would you please be quiet?" Autor said softly, narrowing his eyes at them. Then he stomped-with oddly gentle footfalls-back to his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I can't believe this," he groused to the air. "Princely-! And for me to say-what a ridiculous notion."

"Don't worry about him," a girl near the mezzanine ladder said. "He does that to everyone. I think he's just self-centered."

"I know all of that," Autor said, bristling.

"Snapping at me isn't going to help, you know," she said coolly, closing her book before walking away.

While glaring at her back, he noticed that her hair was brown, and not quite elaborate.