Jim's fingers were flying on a laptop at the Eolas Library, typey-hands going at it as he searched and searched and searched. He wasn't great at it, but throw enough time at something, and you'll get there eventually. His tie was off. His top two buttons were undone. He was fucking tired.
Looking over at Chris with a weary look in his eye, the Taifa asked, "Find anything?" Their work was long, but slowly and surely, they were getting the materials down to find the next great lead. After all, they could write as many books as they wanted -- and they had, the shelves slowly growing with their collective significant occult knowledge -- but they needed some external knowledge. And so that was where they looked next.