Research by night was always nice, especially in the summer. August was a time of relative peace at universities; aside from the occasional summer examination, students were not flooding the buildings with their iPods and their backpacks and their books. They were not whispering too loudly and they were not being told to shush by vigilant library staff who the students would then turn around and whisper some more about.
Students not actually in law did not flood the Law Library, where elitist young lawyers protested for their right to 'their space'. Arts kids did not flood the quiet Science library. The law casebooks were put away. Chaucer remained shelved. The annoyances of the April examination period were much muted in August, just before the undergraduate students all came flooding back.
And so Dr. Kingsley found himself, a visiting researcher pulling information regarding criminology and forensic science, sitting in a large and open room without much interference at all from vigilant library staff.
He wore his American Academy of Forensic Science ID card. It tended to stave off inquiring minds about what he was doing there. After all, he didn't look like a kid. He could easily have been a professor. A young one, perhaps. Good God, I'm hitting a birthday I should be dreading soon...
Maybe one day, he would be. The thoughts were a distraction that he shoved away as he focused and read.