The Watcher walks across the floor far below, barely looking where he's going. "It has to be here somewhere," he mutters, studying a scrap of paper. "It's not, not like anyone else is going to want to read it." A beat. "I hope."
He walks out of sight, appearing a moment later on the first balcony. "Th-the Forbidden Almagest was quite clear," he told himself as he walked along the stacked shelves. "Only a mortal can read the-" He stopped, adjusted his spectacles, and peered at a leatherbound volume. "No, no."
Another doorway, another level up. "Most Slayers would be happy to help," he continued to himself, frowning at the books as he passed. "But no, I-I have to get the one who insists on 'hanging out' instead. You'd think an imminent apocalypse would take precedence, but, but no."
He reached the highest level, right beneath the vast white dome that roofed the ancient library. "It's probably quicker without her," he concluded, running his fingers over the books. "I can, can just imagine how little respect she would show for the Library of-"
His fingers seemed to snag on a book, dark and weathered. He frowned, bent over and studied the spine, then pulled the volume out with a smile of triumph. "There you are at last! Now, let's see what you can tell me..."