There is a large green book lying invitingly open on one of the library's polished tables. It's text is as incomprehensible to the gun as most of the other volumes she's seen, though it may feel frustratingly familiar despite that fact. Still, there are illustrations to peruse, of gorgeously colored if anatomically improbable beasts.

Her other form has wandered some aisles away, searching for anything interesting in the stacks. The use of her hands had been momentarily pressing when another volume catching her attention. By the time she'd decided it was useless, another shelf had caught her attention. The need to watch over her book form was forgotten.

[She isn't written in Japanese, but in something that's very reminiscent of it, just fyi.]