When she returns a few days later the snake is closer to the front. It's relaxing, once again, at a windowsill. The girl cautiously walks around it and sits with a book in her hand. She has to do homework and this place is a lot quieter than the campus library. It is late into the evening before she looks back up. It is dark outside and the snake is laying on the table closer to her than before. She freezes.

He seems to be asleep, but every so often his tongue flicks out. She takes this fearful time to admire the snake. It is shiny and clean. The red scales trail up and some areas have little red scales spotting the sides where the black scales take over. It's not a fat snake, but not skinny either. It looks well cared for. It's tail is resting in a water bowl that is supposedly for him.

She carefully opens her bag and pulls out a small sketchbook. She starts with a short black coat that is faux leather. The cuffs and collar of the jacket are dotted with red that looks like scales up close but blood spatter far away. It's a simple design. Eloquent and slim fitting with a poly-cotton dark red shirt underneath. She creates a dark vest but scraps it, it takes away from the sleek look the jacket gives. She adds a snakeskin belt to the dark black skinny jeans and just for fun adds some black cowboy boots. The boots have some heel to them giving her doodled model some hight. She adds a simple accessory of a snake ear cuff at the end and smiles. When she is done she puts away her supplies and looks at the snake.

His eyes are open and the attention makes her uneasy. She wonders how long he'd been staring. He doesn't make a sound, just looks at her. She clears her throat. "I, uh, I've never been this close to a snake before." She admits. He blinks. "You know you are very beautiful. I quite envy your color." She said, she felt her throat closing in fear as he slithered closer.

He lifts his head and looks around. Satisfied he slinks back down and moves his head over to where her white knuckled hand his clutching her backpack. His tongue tickles her hand as he flicks it out. He stays there until she relaxes her grip enough to move her hand.

Gently he places his head in her palm. The girl takes a breath and decides then that if the snake is trusting her than she can trust in it.

Soon she's coming to the bookstore every day to do her homework. In the evening she talks to Crowley. He is a good listener. He sits on his perch of the window or the table and listens to her talk about her family, friends and even her girl, Marcy. She tells him about the struggles in school and with her parents when she left them. She tells him things that she would never and had never told anyone before. Her hopes, her doubts about her major, her love. He is a friend and he doesn't judge her for loving a girl, or make awkward accusations or rude comments. She feels herself around the snake.

Sometimes Mr. Fell appears to give his company or some refreshment for her and Crowley. Occasionally he will sit with her, if they both aren't busy, and talk about history. Rarely during these conversions does Crowley do anything. Sometimes if Mr. Fell does say something strange Crowley will hiss. Not a threatening hiss, but a soft and short hiss that stops Mr.Fell's story. Mr. Fell, the girl thinks, like to pretend that Crowley can talk because he seems like such a lonely man. When Crowley gives his occasional hiss Mr. Fell nods sagely and agrees. "Ah, you're right, my dear boy, those frills were often times very itchy. But that was the fun of the times one could say." The girl would just giggle and Crowley would shut his eyes once more and sleep, having got his word in on the matter.

One day, in mid August Mr.Fell was pulled from his history session to "help" a customer. Crowley has slithered into his lap and had to be removed so Mr. Fell could prevent the customer from buying anything. So Mr. Fell plucked Crowley from his lap, briefly startling the poor thing, kissed it atop its head, and laid Crowley gently down on the table. He promised to be back and gave a loving look to Crowley, "Sorry, my dear, be back in a gif."

The girl sighed and looked at Crowley who was readjusting himself to the cold table top by folding in on himself. He stopped when she spoke. "It is nice to have someone to look at you like that. To be so free in your love that no one can deny you. I bet you understand what I'm talking about. Mr.Fell cares for you, and I think you like him too." Crowley coils into a nice bundle of snake and hisses softly. The sound doesn't scare her like it used to.

"Mr. Fell is a kind man, an accepting man. He would probably understand if I told him who I love...but I don't know if I am ready. I haven't even told my crush. She's just brilliant, Crowley." Crowley hisses shortly.

"Well of course not as brilliant as you." She laughs at the little responses she comes up with when she imagines what would happen if Crowley could talk to her. Maybe Mr.Fell's influence was rubbing off on her.