Floating weightlessly in the ether of a space caught between time, Nestor found himself exuding a peaceful smile for the first time in a dismally long while; he did not seem inclined to so much as open his eyes, rather quite willing to let the feeling wash over him: the gentle lapping of waves on a quiet shore, and just time enough to contemplate the thought that this indeed might be death – and perhaps death then would not be so bad after all...

And then her laughter cut through his thoughts, a girlish squeal dying away in the vast expanse of formless nothing:

“Ahh, but isn't it lovely, Nestor Dear? Perhaps they renamed this particular Goddess Molly – after a few thousand years of hiatus... and now...”

“If you so much as -think- it...”

“Too late!” More laughter; the unintelligible gibberish of words caught up in the fabric of space as things begin to grow more corporeal around us. I could not help but admit – even if keeping the thought spitefully to myself – the lurid play of feeling and pure emotion did have a markedly druggish feeling; but there were other things to think about – for one the remarkable nature of our new surroundings. I felt a bit embarrassed to admit that I had, in all this time, never once visited the great library at Alexandria – though still I took some solace in the fact that I had personally sent more than a few priceless books and rare artefacts into the care of its guardians. For all I knew my name was engraved somewhere on a shiny little bronze plaque, but I didn't really care to ask; this was a place Demonspawn had never been especially welcome, even if they'd always been more than happy to ask -my- help in obtaining. And as much as there was the distinct urge to go off strolling through distant aisles of ancient lore... well, the present – quite unfortunately – was calling.

Though Nestor appears to take several long moments to scrutinize his surroundings, exhibiting an almost childish interest in the endless accumulation of information arrayed all about, his attitude takes on a far more businesslike demeanour the moment Isis gestures toward the awaiting statues and the vault beyond. He wastes no time, carefully sweeping a jumbled pile of books to one side of the nearest table, disentangling himself from the dufflebag and plopping it atop the newly cleared space. 

The Demoness, however, seems far more bent on giving rein to her curiosity – and without so much as a glance to her surroundings snatches up the nearest tome at hand, cracks open the cover (without seeming to notice the title) and begins rifling rapidly through the pages, ice-veined hands a flurry of activity.

Paying her no mind, Nestor continues to swiftly empty the bag of its contents; acting for the moment as if no one were there – as though he were not, in fact, in the centre of the largest and most distinguished library of the entire veiled world – he nonchalantly begins divesting himself of the clothes borrowed from Atticus; the replacement is far more utilitarian in nature. Having just finished lacing up his boots, he stands and frowns to finally take notice of the Demoness: she has by now commenced walking in slow circles around Adam, periodically 'hmming' to herself, now and again pausing to peer at the book, then back toward the Golem.

“Oh, Nestor! Look! Vastly intriguing “The Anatomy of the Golem and his Kind”...” Here she pauses, places a wickedly clawed finger against her lower lip, draws her brow and lips together into a displeased moue before remarking: “But I'm quite afraid it's rather fake... fake or very much behind its times. A shame, really. I'd only just been getting to the part on 'Golem Mating Habits'” Another pause, a wink and a sultry kind of smirk in Adam's direction as she impishly states – “a whole new meaning to the term 'Rock Hard', don't you think?”

Nestor grunts gives a noncommittal grunt at this, scoops up his leather harness and begins strapping his various bits of equipment down – the better part of the objects seem ambiguous in nature, all sleek leather and polished bits of steel – all quite hidden from view by the time he has finished and pulled his jacket over top. Leaving the bag to lie where it his, he pads over to where the Golem stands – one hand rubbing on his chin, he eyes the distant statues critically, before remarking aloud to Adam:

“Well, what do you say, Master Golem? A sword seems marginally... insignificant... but I think between the two of us we could deal with one. If you're willing to lend me a favour or two...” Here he pauses, squinting, then turning to size up the Golem beside him; the Demoness closes the book with a snap – laughs manically at the cloud of dust that billows upward, before flagrantly sending the thing whizzing into a random corner, narrowly grazing some poor scholar's unsuspecting head as she claps her hands together delightedly. 

“Yes, yes, Golem-Who-Smokes! A favour... though it involves nothing rock-hard, I'm afraid...” Nestor snaps his fingers irritatedly at the woman, butting back in.

“I need for you to hurl me – as hard as you are Golemically capable” Here he pauses, cocking his head to the side and gazing up at the creature with a lopsided quirk of his lips – “And do not worry, Master Golem – I may not be built as you, but I much tougher than I look. Afterward, get ready to catch -him- before he falls into anything... expensive...” Here he gestures toward the statue before continuing “And don't worry yourself about me... just do be warned! – I can only promise he won't be conscious. Not for how long.”

“Nor how righteous-pissed he'll be upon rousing in the arms of a Golem!” She shrieks directly afterward, clapping her hands together again as she adds “Four centuries Nestor, and you're still coming up with new ways to injure yourself!”

Nestor shrugs lightly in response, addressing the Golem once more: “I imagine you can handle things from there; if not, I shan't be far.”