Milo could not keep doing nothing but looking for Kida. If she was here by now he would have known. He needed to accept that he was here, stuck, in Storybrooke and there was a chance that she would wind up here later. He had to believe that to the alternative but in the meantime he was losing his mind trying to figure out this new place and its strange new technologies. Everything had changed and, no wonder, it was nearly 100 years later. Things had to progress, even if he hadn't been around to see it.

Still, he missed the comforts of home and grasped the crystal around his neck. The soft glow reminded him of where he came from and, someday, hoped to return to.

He spotted a small shop with a friendly word scrawled on the window. Books. If there ever was a haven for him in this shifting sea it was knowledge. After all, he needed to do something to stop himself from missing Kida too much. If he kept it up he'd go mad. The days were long without her and though he was trying to get his bearing and meet people it was not the same as finding comfort in the familiar.

Pushing open the door, he spotted first the shelves full of the written word and breathed a sigh of relief. Anything, he wasn't picky about what the books were about so long as he could read them and God knew he read practically every language there was. It was sort of his super power, if people believed in that sort of thing. Apparently around here they did, though most of the people he'd met didn't think much of his brand of power. That was ok.

"What would you recommend?" He asked softly of the shop owner, turning in a circle. There was a lot to choose from and he was about as thirsty as a man lost at sea.

Mufasa

Mufasa heard the door open and looked up from his spot at the front counter. He smiled in greeting, watching the younger man as he looked around, noting the way he seemed very happy just to be in the shop. Not many people walked in and span in a circle to take it all in, after all.

He stood, putting down the book he had been reading, and taking the reading glasses from their perch over the bridge of his nose. His vision was very clear, except when a book was put in front of him. Then it was like he was trying to read a different language at all times, without the glass to clear up and magnify the letters.

He was not sure if that was an actual vision problem, or if perhaps his actual reading skills were being called into question.

"That's a very general and broad question, young man. What sort of books do you like to read, first, and the perhaps I may offer you something similar?"

If he could. He got the sense that this was the kind of customer he liked. Someone who wanted to read whatever he could, and was not picky about books if only because he liked to learn. It was more than Mufasa himself could claim, though he had certainly made up for a lot of wasted time not reading by working here. When it was quiet, which was a lot of the time since he was the only employee, he filled the silence with books.

It made coming here every day something he looked forward to. Recently, only meeting up with a certain lovely witch was a better use of his time, and something he liked to do more.

"My name is Mufasa. Welcome to my shop," he added, with a friendly offer of his hand in greeting.

"Anything..."

Milo was a kid in a candy store as he looked around, surveying the shop in front of him. He just liked to learn and would read anything he could get his hands on at any time. It wasn't uncommon for him to read things multiple times, and quickly, just to absorb everything he could. He loved life, learning, and putting what he learned to use: an all around scholar in the best sense of the word. He didn't understand people that didn't.

Offering his hand to Mufasa he shrugged and gave the shop keep a smile, his own glasses sliding down his nose before he pushed them up with one hand.

"I haven't read anything new in about a hundred years so anything you give me will be a welcome change."

Just by looking he was fairly sure he and this man were going to become friends. It was nice to know someone that owned a book store because he was probably going to be a frequent customer here. In New York he has spent a lot of time at the library and, absently, hoped his outstanding library books had been returned before his trip. He'd never stopped to ask Helga and now he couldn't. He was pretty sure everyone he knew was dead. That wasn't so nice to think about.

"What are you reading right now? I can start there."

Impossible to think that the owner of a book store wasn't reading something on his own time. Did that sort of thing even happen? Probably not.

"How long have you been here? It's all pretty new to me."

He was about a hundred years too late for his own time.

Mufasa