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Jamie hooked a chair with one foot and stretched out, putting his feet up. The actual historical accounts of the Thirty Years' War were nearly as interesting as Eric Flint's fictional alternate version, he decided, and it was actually starting to look like he'd have fun writing the paper. Too bad there wasn't more about Richelieu in this book, though--for a priest, that guy had been a _snake._
Monet was about to look up the catalogue when she saw exactly the book she needed, so she walked over and took it from Jamie's hands. "Perfect," she said happily.
Jamie looked up irritably. "'Scuse me, I was reading that one."
"Really?" Monet flipped through the pages quickly. "I thought you were just looking at the pictures."
"It's Parker on the Thirty Years' War. The illustrations are all in one section, which isn't the section I was reading. And I need it to help clarify the political situation during the war. You can have it when I'm done."
Looking up for a second, Monet looked puzzled. "I can have it... But I already have it," she pointed out. "If you want it so bad, I'll make sure you get it when I'm finished."
Jamie folded his arms. "You only have it because you took it from me. When I wasn't done with it. Some of us have this concept known as waiting our turn. You may not be familiar with it, but it involves waiting your turn."
"And such a cute concept it is too," Monet smiled. "You stick with it." She moved to a neighbouring table and opened up her notebook, obviously settling in for some serious note-taking.
*Spoiled brat,* Jamie thought. He leaned across the gap between the tables and grabbed the book back while Monet was still fiddling with her notebook.
He was still pulling back when she moved faster than he could see and grabbed onto the book, so it was held like a tug of war rope between them. "What happened to waiting your turn?" she asked, affronted.
"It's still my turn. I was here first."
"But," Monet said with the air of one for whom this was a trumping argument, "I need that book."
"And you can have it," Jamie explained in an elaborately patient tone of voice, "when I'm _done._" He gave the book an exploratory and incredibly fruitless tug. "If you can't wait another hour, there's at least four other books on the war in here, and I'm not using any of them right now."
Monet didn't budge. "So why don't you use those ones? I want this one."
"Because either they don't have what I need or I've looked at them already. Once I finish this one, I can write my paper."
"So go write some geekerly outline or something," Monet said impatiently. "I won't be long."
"Neither will I. And I already have an outline, thanks. I was doing fine until you decided to be rude. Do you have to practice that, or does it come free with the platinum card?"
"If I was rude, you'd know it," Monet said. "I'm not being rude, you're being unreasonable, or you were until you decided personal attacks were the way to go. Is that the way that farm brats are taught to react to conflict? If you give me a minute I'm sure I can think of something to say about your mother, just to fit in."
"_I'm_ being unreasonable? I'm not the one who came in here and took a book out of someone's hands without so much as asking."
"So?" Monet shook her head.
"So, I'd like the book back, please. You can have it as soon as I'm done."
"You're being bloody minded about this. No." Monet didn't let go of the book. "I want it, I have it, and you can just bugger off."
"You have to be the most incredibly selfish person I've ever met. Do you just take whatever you want?"
"Usually. I don't see any of your limbs dropping off for lack of the book, and I had thought you a big enough boy that you wouldn't cry. Of course, now it looks like I was wrong."
Jamie snorted and let go of the book. "No point in arguing with a wall. Put it back on the shelf when you're done."
"Oh. Don't you want it?" Monet shrugged. "'kay." She sat back down, and picked up her pen in unconcern.
Jamie rolled his eyes and left.