WHO: Fenris, Jone, & YOU. WHAT: Fenris & Jone are back in Kirkwall. WHEN: When... people... are back in Kirkwall... waves hand. WHERE: KIRKWALL NOTES: None yet.
He raises an eyebrow as he goes about warming water, preparing pot and grinder and the amount of beans he'll use right now, but doesn't stop her. He has...more coffee...she can use the caffeine boost as much as anyone, it's fine.
Instead,
"I'll try to keep myself from announcing it to everyone on the crystals."
He's funny.
"I doubt anyone will care about you grabbing a midnight snack."
"I'll see what I can do," he says, which is as close to agreement as she's going to get.
He pauses long enough in his coffee-making process to pick up a couple of apples, near to him but tricky for her to grab around where he stands, and offer them for her bag.
"You know Gabranth thought I wanted to court you once?" With humor; this was clearly never a real danger. You know, no offense. "I'm not sure what he would've done if I hadn't said no. We were on a mission, dealing with demons and rifts, and he was thinking about bringing something back for you."
Or at least, Jone was the first thought on his mind, the first word out of his mouth, when he'd thought he'd found something that could serve as a gift. All of which is another way of saying: I'm happy for the two of you.
So Jim has the rare experience of catching Jone at a loss for words. Her, a piteous creature at the best of times, and him, even then-?
It only lasts a few moments, a blank stare lingering on candlelight, mouth slightly open in confusion. She covers it up soon enough. A huff of laughter, more performative than anything. She has to respond somehow, doesn't she? Though the thought of finding someplace separate and laugh into her hands like a child is certainly a temptation.
"Courting me," she shakes her head. "What a laugh. He'd've likely offered you a duel. Proper knight, he is."
She's trying to play her usual cards, casual insults in every direction, but her voice is unmistakably fond.
He's more than willing to keep it light, here, not draw attention to the impact this anecdote has on her. He returns to the boiling of water, further giving her some space — literally and otherwise.
She laughs, deep and throaty, and a little satisfied. "He wouldn't've," she can't believe Noah would kill the man over a lover's spat, especially one that clearly took place before they were together. "Just knocked you around a bit."
She takes a sip of her tea. "What'd he wanna give me?"
The look he briefly shoots Jone has something like, are you sure? to it — but, in truth, he'd never cast real question on Gabranth's honor, or on their friendship.
Getting knocked around by that armor would've hurt like a bitch, though.
He turns back around once he has the coffee grounds in hot water, and then, with a shrug, pulls something small and metallic out of his pocket, hands it over for her perusal.
"Something of mine that fell out of a rift. A badge."
Jone squints at the thing, mouthing the words as she reads it in a whisper. When she's done, she sits back with a confused grin. "Blimey, I can't think for the life of me why he'd reckon this was something I was wanting."
He's softer under the armor than it seems, but he'd have to be, to have a pulse. She doesn't speak it aloud; let Holden decide for herself. She won't tell Noah's secrets.
Presumably, Gabranth gave up on the idea upon realizing the thing was of no use to Jone at all.
She hands the thing back to Holden. "D'you know what it is?"
He takes it back but doesn't immediately pocket it again, letting the cool metal slide between his fingers.
"He thought it was jewelry."
And whether or not Jone actually wears jewelry, it's not hard to imagine Gabranth seeing such a thing as a fine gift for a woman he's sweet on. Holden wouldn't be surprised if the man brings her flowers.
"Executive officer is a job on the ships I used to work on." To clarify, "Second in command. The badge just tells people you have the job."
Jewelry. She lets out one bark of shocked laughter. Jewelry on her. She shakes her head.
Holden has her attention, thankfully away from that grotesque fantasy, and she tilts her head to the side. "You were a sailor? Never would have imagined it. You've not tried to shag a single goat." Her brow furrows. Her smile widens. "Or have you."
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Instead,
"I'll try to keep myself from announcing it to everyone on the crystals."
He's funny.
"I doubt anyone will care about you grabbing a midnight snack."
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"Fine, fine," she swats at him, light enough to barely touch. "Play ignorant. Probably politer..."
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There it is.
"Or anyone else's."
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Some salted beef goes into her bag. Breakfast, excellent. "You're a dear lad, Jim. Take a rest, won't you? Only war ahead."
Rest like she's resting. Or actually sleep. Though given he's up at this hour drinking coffee, whatever relaxation he finds is good enough.
no subject
He pauses long enough in his coffee-making process to pick up a couple of apples, near to him but tricky for her to grab around where he stands, and offer them for her bag.
"You know Gabranth thought I wanted to court you once?" With humor; this was clearly never a real danger. You know, no offense. "I'm not sure what he would've done if I hadn't said no. We were on a mission, dealing with demons and rifts, and he was thinking about bringing something back for you."
Or at least, Jone was the first thought on his mind, the first word out of his mouth, when he'd thought he'd found something that could serve as a gift. All of which is another way of saying: I'm happy for the two of you.
no subject
It only lasts a few moments, a blank stare lingering on candlelight, mouth slightly open in confusion. She covers it up soon enough. A huff of laughter, more performative than anything. She has to respond somehow, doesn't she? Though the thought of finding someplace separate and laugh into her hands like a child is certainly a temptation.
"Courting me," she shakes her head. "What a laugh. He'd've likely offered you a duel. Proper knight, he is."
She's trying to play her usual cards, casual insults in every direction, but her voice is unmistakably fond.
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He's more than willing to keep it light, here, not draw attention to the impact this anecdote has on her. He returns to the boiling of water, further giving her some space — literally and otherwise.
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She takes a sip of her tea. "What'd he wanna give me?"
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Getting knocked around by that armor would've hurt like a bitch, though.
He turns back around once he has the coffee grounds in hot water, and then, with a shrug, pulls something small and metallic out of his pocket, hands it over for her perusal.
"Something of mine that fell out of a rift. A badge."
P&K CANTERBURY, it reads, EXECUTIVE OFFICER.
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He's softer under the armor than it seems, but he'd have to be, to have a pulse. She doesn't speak it aloud; let Holden decide for herself. She won't tell Noah's secrets.
Presumably, Gabranth gave up on the idea upon realizing the thing was of no use to Jone at all.
She hands the thing back to Holden. "D'you know what it is?"
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"He thought it was jewelry."
And whether or not Jone actually wears jewelry, it's not hard to imagine Gabranth seeing such a thing as a fine gift for a woman he's sweet on. Holden wouldn't be surprised if the man brings her flowers.
"Executive officer is a job on the ships I used to work on." To clarify, "Second in command. The badge just tells people you have the job."
no subject
Holden has her attention, thankfully away from that grotesque fantasy, and she tilts her head to the side. "You were a sailor? Never would have imagined it. You've not tried to shag a single goat." Her brow furrows. Her smile widens. "Or have you."
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"I don't kiss and tell."
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"The real thing, you are." A hand on his shoulder. Still laughing. "I'll not say otherwise."