The first page of the book is so insipid, Joan would throw it across the room if she thought she'd be able to reach another. She snarls inside her head and turns the page. The description of the hero's rippling pecs makes her snort so hard her eyes roll.

She shifts her weight to her other foot, cocks her hip, and glances around. No one watching her, no one paying much attention to her at--

A flash of motion at the door catches Joan's eyes. She shifts into defensive stance, closing the book and tucking it into the belt of her dress. "Well, are you just going to stand there all day?" she asks, sharp but more focused and less peevish. At least this is something to confront. "I'm waiting."