Apart from the quiet music that's always thrumming through this place the bookstore is one of the best reprieves the mall has to offer. It smells of pulpy paper and inks and faintly of coffee— a far better atmosphere than the melding stink of greasy foodcourt favourites and burnt plastic whiff of industrial floor wax.

He's stolen a few winks here over the weeks. Putting his feet up with a book in hand and hiding his eyes behind his dark RayBans to catch a moment's sleep. Today though, he's not cat napping for a change. He's actually collecting a few books in hand before he notices Kyle and cranes his head to get a look at the spine of whatever book he holds.

"What's that one?" he asks.