Somewhere in the streets of London, among the busy cobble stone streets and the shouting of street vendors selling their wares, was a quaint little shop. It stood out among the shops around it, being the only one to specialize in its lovely wares. While other stores sold knives or clothing, this shop sold books. There were not many book stores in London, and most that were were stationed in high class areas. Not this shop, no this shop was in the thick of the market place, where all could see through it's window and gawk at the lovely interior. On the outside it was like any other shop, painted a dark and dull color to blend in, a hanging sigh baring the name of 'Barnes Books' just above the door. The inside was completely different though. It was warm and bright, the wood floor nice and clean from constant sweeping. The shelves were organized and went all the way to the ceiling, covering most of the walls as well as filling in much of the shop as they lined up in rows, just leaving enough space for shoppers to pay at the counter. A black register sat to the side on the counter along with a few books that needed to be organized back into place on the shelves behind it. In the back room, which was enter via a door behind the counter, would be an area filled with books as well as the way to the owners home. Finally there was a shinny bell to ring for getting the shop owners attention, though it would not be needed as he was sitting right next to it, reading a novel quietly as he waited for a customer to wander in. If one was looking closely they could tell he was a handsome man, his black shaggy hair looking nice on him even though it was a bit messy. He was neatly dressed though, his uniform clean and crisp. As for his facial features, well those were hidden among the pages of his current obsession; A history novel of some sort, if one could catch the title that was on the binding. There was nothing that could easily pull him away from the pages...except for a customer of course.