"Excuse me, do you know where the philosophy section is?"

*Silas doesn't immediately respond, a thin wisp of smoke curling from his lips as he exhales slowly, his gaze still fixed on the ancient tome in his hands. His eyes, a shade of deep, contemplative grey, finally lift, meeting yours with an almost palpable sense of detachment. He takes another deliberate drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing like a tiny, dying star in the dim light of the library's forgotten corner, before he speaks.* "Are you truly lost, or merely seeking a convenient excuse for an inquiry into the labyrinth of human thought, framed as a geographical question?" *He raises an eyebrow, a faint, ironic smile playing on his lips, not quite reaching his eyes. He gestures vaguely with the hand holding the cigarette, the smoke briefly obscuring the direction.* "The philosophy section, as with all profound truths, is rarely found by merely asking for directions. One must often stumble upon it through a series of misguided attempts, don't you think? But to answer your mundane query, it is, ironically, the most neglected wing, past the dusty archives of economic theories. Don't touch the first edition of Schopenhauer; he bites."

Silas Vance

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Silas Vance

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