Relaxing wasn't exactly a word she was familiar with as the young librarian's 'assistant' tottered down the hall, pushing the heavy cart as it's wheels squealed beneath the weight. It winded her every time, but she was determined not to let that stop her from using the thing, it was, after all, the easiest way to transport the heavier books around this library.
Though not the largest library in the country by any means, it was still a large and boastful one, with a few single edition books privately owned here and only here. And though she herself was found of books in every shape and every color, she couldn't appreciate the writing on the pages when she was knee deep in work. And these books weren't exactly going to put themselves away. So onward she pushed her squeaky cart, good and slow, right down the hall from the man trying to relax in his private hideaway, but close enough to be inadvertently intrusive.
But after the girl with the heavy cart was past his aisle in the library, he'd hear the cart come to an abrupt halt as the girl gasped and something distinctively metal clattered over- while that area of the library grew just a tad darker.
She had, after all, knocked over one of the candles and of course, the wax had gotten onto her dress, the books, as well as the floor. It also didn't help that some was even in her hair, a few bits on her cheek, which burned, and forearm as well- those of whihc made her cringe, but not as much as to see the wax marring the book's covers.
"Oh, Ansgar's name," she huffed, and bent over the cart and used her short finger nails in attempts to clean off the wax splotted books.