...Martel presses his hands against the shelf, leans forward, and an enterprising observer might translate his expression here as 'fuck my life'. Close enough. He shuts the book in front of him with a decisive snap and rises to his feet, weighing whether or not to interrupt. He could very easily just go back to his work and ignore him, but...on the other hand, it's just as likely that Sparhawk will notice him in turn, and there are people he'd rather not be startled by.

His erstwhile brother chief among them.

Mind made up, Martel crosses the distance to lean against the bookshelf, positively nonchalant. "I know that Lady Sephrenia didn't teach you those words. Looking for something, Sparhawk?"