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He'd been told when he first arrived at Camp that to be banished to library duty was a fate much worse than death itself. He'd never paid much heed to the stories, though- after all, they said the exact same thing about doing the wash up, too. Safe to say, after the day Max had, he was going to keep such warnings closer to heart in the future.

It wasn't as if he'd /meant/ to start the previous day with a fist fight. It'd just happened. When a few fellow campers finally got between them and Chiron turned up, he'd expected to have desert rights taken away or something- after all, that was the usual punishment at the multitude of boarding schools he'd attended over the years. Unlucky for him, and for his previous opponent, Camp Half-Blood didn't operate that same way. One of them had been destined to plunge his hands into the scalding water of the kitchens after every meal for the next week... and the other was punished with twenty four hour library duty, to be carried out over the course of the next few days.

So, the son of Aphrodite had ended up stacking shelves and cleaning up after messy teens, and once six hours had passed (he was trying to squeeze as many as possible into one day, to leave few for the next), his feet felt as if they were about to drop off. The mean old librarian sat in her own corner of the library, and refused to allow any small breaks. At the start of the day, she'd turned her nose up at him and made it very clear she thought his method was wrong- how someone could be wrong in a library, he didn't know- so, he'd exiled himself to the farthest corners, where all the older tomes were kept.

Ask him how the fire actually started, and he couldn't have told you. But he knew exactly when he spotted the first signs of smoke. He'd reached up to put one of the three copies of 'Magick and Mystics' back onto the oak shelves, when from underneath, black smoke had begun to billow. It was thick enough to make him cough and throw hands up to cover his nose, the few books he'd been clutching falling with a bang to the floor. Of course, Max had wasted no time in getting down from the step ladder, abandoning the books and rushing to the side of the shelf- being met with a wall of smoke that really didn't seem safe to walk through. No way was it a fire caused by natural means, and he had the strong suspicion that a Hecate camper had been experimenting.

The only thing for it was the back room, which thankfully, wasn't more than a few strides from where he'd been working. Max had turned, grabbing hold of the handle and making his way through the door post haste, thankful that the librarian didn't keep the door to the oldest books locked. The lightbulb flickered over head, swinging on a cord, and he had less than a moment of peace before he realized-

He wasn't alone.

It may have taken longer for him to realize someone else was inside, had she been hidden by the shelves which were smaller than those outside, but still towered above him. But she wasn't, and he blanched, realizing that for someone who had escaped a fire, he really didn't seem all that concerned. Clearing his throat, he threw a thumb up, gesturing over his shoulder to the door he'd just slammed shut. "So," he started, and there was too much calm to his voice, "That smoke? There may or may not be a fire."

He paused, as if reconsidering his words.

"Well, ok. There's a fire. I realize you might feel the need to panic- for the love of all the gods above, please don't."

ooc: --
tag: saph omg
words: who cares/knows not me

After further consideration- about two seconds of, that is- Max came to the conclusion that rushing to the backroom had probably not been the smartest idea. Yes, it had been the nearest to him, and with his one track mind he had thought that it was better to escape the flames than hang around waiting to see what was really going on... but had he spent another second looking, he may well have found an alternative exit.

Then again, if he'd escaped out that door, no one would have stumbled upon the dark haired girl before him. She'd have been stuck in the room, alone, to meet her fate...

He didn't really care, actually. If only he hadn't been a dumbass, he could have saved his own skin.

It wasn't even safe inside the backroom- all of the books, ancient texts, wrinkled paper... well, should the fire get through the door (could fire sneak under?), they were both royally screwed. Asking her to remain calm was gonna be worth shit, if the flames suddenly began to grow around them. Max wasn't even sure if he'd be able to remain calm in that situation. Still, for the time being, he steeled himself and acted as undisturbed by it all as was possible. Letting go of the doorknob he'd been clutching behind his back (partly for his next action, partly because it had begun to heat up and he wasn't about getting his hands all burned), the brunette held his hands up defensively, automatically flinching away as she raised the flashlight to his face. Black spots danced in his vision, the sudden bright like seemingly burning a hole in his retina. "There is no exit!" The lie fell easily from his tongue, and he hoped to all the Gods above that the girl had never had to work library duty, and thus never seen the hidden away little back door that he (and he was really cursing himself now, for not doing so), could have gotten through. "It was the back room, or the flames! You should be grateful- Who'd have saved you if I hadn't come along, huh?"

Not that he really knew how he was going to go about the saving of her.

Not that he really wanted to save her at all.

She'd have had little chance of pushing him aside, if he weren't still half-blind and his guard down. But even her weak little push was enough to send him stepping to the side, and almost lazily, no real volume to the warning, he continued with a, "Oh, don't touch that." Course, it was too late, and her hands met the roasting doorknob. If he weren't stuck here with her, he might have laughed. Instead, he pressed his lips into a thin line and threw his hands up again, this time in a 'what-can-you-do?' sort of gesture. "D'you really think I'd have come in here if there was any other option? Even if you could have gotten out, the smoke and the flames are lethal out there," as for her last question, he fixed her with a pointed, and undeniably stern, look, "Pray tell, what does panicking do? Where does panicking get us? What are you achieving by yelling abuse and losing your rag? We're still stuck here after you go hoarse and reach the end of your screaming spree. Except, after all that, we'll be stuck with even less oxygen than before. So for Christ's sake- Stay. Calm."

ooc:
tag: saph omg
words: who cares/knows not me