Mmhmm. Though, if we don't stop now, I don't think we will at all.
[ A tease, matter-of-fact — though, in truth, not much of a deterrent on her end. She's reticent on talking about this... whatever this winds up being, hesitant on putting names to it, to inviting observation and scrutiny and the inevitable attention from forces whose attention she does not want, but that's only the words of it. The actions, the physical presence and practical applications, everything making up this kind of attention...
Well. Between the two of them, it wasn't Jaime spending his single years picking up strangers in bars, was it?
Before he has a chance to rebut — or pull her into another kiss they might not get out of — Ruka pivots, pulling her bag off the couch and setting it instead on the floor at her feet. There's a heavy thud when it touches the ground, and she retrieves gifts from it one by one. He'll have to unwrap each one before he gets to the next one, so his poor table is going to be an inevitable graveyard of wrapping papers.
In order: - A set of imported European drinking chocolates — Belgian, Swiss, and Finnish, by the looks of the labels. - A pair of dark leather motorcycle gloves, already fitted (it's easier to get the right size, after all, when she already has all his measurements). Meant to compliment the leather jacket he keeps wearing. - A novelty fridge magnet designed after a sun with rays, wearing sunglasses, but clearly misprinted and malformed, making its face less "cool" and more a comically stupid "I'm melting from my own heat, but It's Fine." It just looked so dumb. She had to. - A proper bolo tie, traditionally made, the leather cord fixed with a round, carved silver medallion with a turquoise stone set in the center. Only held up close is the carving detail on the gem obvious — a stone scarab, in the Egyptian style.
There's one last present, but instead of handing it over directly, Ruka holds it in her lap — a larger, but thin, rectangular box. Her fingers run over the edge of it, clearly hesitating to pass it over. ]
This one... um. I meant to give this to you a while ago, but it never felt... like the right time. It still doesn't. It's not finished, either, but it's not supposed to be. It's not really from... me, either, so... you, uh, you might want to open it later.
[ All of this, and this is where she gets nervous? ]
no subject
[ A tease, matter-of-fact — though, in truth, not much of a deterrent on her end. She's reticent on talking about this... whatever this winds up being, hesitant on putting names to it, to inviting observation and scrutiny and the inevitable attention from forces whose attention she does not want, but that's only the words of it. The actions, the physical presence and practical applications, everything making up this kind of attention...
Well. Between the two of them, it wasn't Jaime spending his single years picking up strangers in bars, was it?
Before he has a chance to rebut — or pull her into another kiss they might not get out of — Ruka pivots, pulling her bag off the couch and setting it instead on the floor at her feet. There's a heavy thud when it touches the ground, and she retrieves gifts from it one by one. He'll have to unwrap each one before he gets to the next one, so his poor table is going to be an inevitable graveyard of wrapping papers.
In order:
- A set of imported European drinking chocolates — Belgian, Swiss, and Finnish, by the looks of the labels.
- A pair of dark leather motorcycle gloves, already fitted (it's easier to get the right size, after all, when she already has all his measurements). Meant to compliment the leather jacket he keeps wearing.
- A novelty fridge magnet designed after a sun with rays, wearing sunglasses, but clearly misprinted and malformed, making its face less "cool" and more a comically stupid "I'm melting from my own heat, but It's Fine." It just looked so dumb. She had to.
- A proper bolo tie, traditionally made, the leather cord fixed with a round, carved silver medallion with a turquoise stone set in the center. Only held up close is the carving detail on the gem obvious — a stone scarab, in the Egyptian style.
There's one last present, but instead of handing it over directly, Ruka holds it in her lap — a larger, but thin, rectangular box. Her fingers run over the edge of it, clearly hesitating to pass it over. ]
This one... um. I meant to give this to you a while ago, but it never felt... like the right time. It still doesn't. It's not finished, either, but it's not supposed to be. It's not really from... me, either, so... you, uh, you might want to open it later.
[ All of this, and this is where she gets nervous? ]