[ Jaime's not sure what he's expecting that she's so nervous about. Maybe it's something she worked on? She's a pretty artsy person. He's still gotta check out her games. Maybe it's something to do with that. Either way, he's not particularly expecting a book when he rips the wrapping open, and he makes a quiet noise of surprise as he lifts it out, sweeping one hand flat against the cover; even without the boon of feeling the emotions that come with objects, he's always been a tactile person, imbuing them with his own strength of feeling. Maybe that's why all of his knick knacks probably work for Ruka. It's probably why she chose the book she did, too, that soft, yielding cover that she knew he'd immediately run his hands over.
Then he opens it. ]
Oh.
[ One hand flips the pages, but now that the book's secure on his knees, his other hand travels, clasping to his chest, rising to cover his mouth, fingers scratching against the scruff of his beard. ]
Oh.
[ This, even without the other gifts, would be too much. More than he deserves. But every single page has the same thing etched on it, in its own way, Ruka saying what she thinks and how she feels with other people's words and other people's images - and is that really such a surprise? All of these say, over and over again, you've earned this and you deserve this and you managed to do something good. And that's all Jaime had ever wanted, really. To do something good. To do something that's worth something - anything.
It's the before-and-after pictures that really get to him. The rest do, of course, but this - this is why he does this. This is why he does anything. So these people will have a future, so they'll go on to make their own choices and live happily, so they can have the freedom that's been stolen from so many. How did she find these? How did she put this together? Jaime wouldn't have even known where to start. It must have taken her months. His breath hitches in his chest and his eyes well up despite him willing them not to - he's already cried in front of her so many times, and it feels like there's only so many times he should be able to go to that well in front of someone, but here he is, vision growing cloudy and words turning illegible in the face of it.
At least they're good tears this time. He hurriedly wipes the tears away, as though that can hide a dang thing when Ruka's staring right at him, feeling everything that he's feeling. It's good that she is, because he has no clue how to express it. How glad he is that so many of these people are doing all right, that they're flourishing, how touched he is to have remained in their memory, and possibly most potent of all, how overwhelmed he is that Ruka had put this all together. He wouldn't have expected anyone to. But Ruka, for all that he holds her in - in high esteem (he tries, with futility, to use such language even in the privacy of his own head; it's hard to go slow when his heart keeps on soaring ahead of him) shouldn't have had time for something like this. She's got more important things to do. Better things to do with her time. God knows Jaime couldn't cope with half the things Ruka has to deal with.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2019-06-11 07:46 pm (UTC)[ Jaime's not sure what he's expecting that she's so nervous about. Maybe it's something she worked on? She's a pretty artsy person. He's still gotta check out her games. Maybe it's something to do with that. Either way, he's not particularly expecting a book when he rips the wrapping open, and he makes a quiet noise of surprise as he lifts it out, sweeping one hand flat against the cover; even without the boon of feeling the emotions that come with objects, he's always been a tactile person, imbuing them with his own strength of feeling. Maybe that's why all of his knick knacks probably work for Ruka. It's probably why she chose the book she did, too, that soft, yielding cover that she knew he'd immediately run his hands over.
Then he opens it. ]
Oh.
[ One hand flips the pages, but now that the book's secure on his knees, his other hand travels, clasping to his chest, rising to cover his mouth, fingers scratching against the scruff of his beard. ]
Oh.
[ This, even without the other gifts, would be too much. More than he deserves. But every single page has the same thing etched on it, in its own way, Ruka saying what she thinks and how she feels with other people's words and other people's images - and is that really such a surprise? All of these say, over and over again, you've earned this and you deserve this and you managed to do something good. And that's all Jaime had ever wanted, really. To do something good. To do something that's worth something - anything.
It's the before-and-after pictures that really get to him. The rest do, of course, but this - this is why he does this. This is why he does anything. So these people will have a future, so they'll go on to make their own choices and live happily, so they can have the freedom that's been stolen from so many. How did she find these? How did she put this together? Jaime wouldn't have even known where to start. It must have taken her months. His breath hitches in his chest and his eyes well up despite him willing them not to - he's already cried in front of her so many times, and it feels like there's only so many times he should be able to go to that well in front of someone, but here he is, vision growing cloudy and words turning illegible in the face of it.
At least they're good tears this time. He hurriedly wipes the tears away, as though that can hide a dang thing when Ruka's staring right at him, feeling everything that he's feeling. It's good that she is, because he has no clue how to express it. How glad he is that so many of these people are doing all right, that they're flourishing, how touched he is to have remained in their memory, and possibly most potent of all, how overwhelmed he is that Ruka had put this all together. He wouldn't have expected anyone to. But Ruka, for all that he holds her in - in high esteem (he tries, with futility, to use such language even in the privacy of his own head; it's hard to go slow when his heart keeps on soaring ahead of him) shouldn't have had time for something like this. She's got more important things to do. Better things to do with her time. God knows Jaime couldn't cope with half the things Ruka has to deal with.
But here she is. And here this is. ]
Ruka...
[ Just give him a second. ]