You’re welcome. [koby finds he wants to slip into military stance, wants to square his shoulders and straighten his arms, wants to – impress, maybe. goodsir isn’t garp, isn’t even an officer, but there’s something about him also serving on a ship, him understanding implicitly the world of a ship, the way the ocean smelled and moved and sounded, the language of a home koby tries so, so hard not to miss.
goodsir says almost that exact thing, and the smile deepens, and koby grabs a clipboard off the table, flicking through the papers held there with practiced ease.] The feeling is completely mutual, Mr. Goodsir. There are a few of my crew here, as well as my [a beat, an instant of hesitation, then:] boyfriend, who’s a sailor as well. We all miss it, I think.
And it’s always nice to have something in common, when you’re getting to know someone. [the corniest line, but from koby it sounds nothing but earnest and sweet. he pulls a printed-out copy of his welcome brochure from the papers, offers it.] I’m also assuming that you prefer paper to the phones? I do too. It’s part of why I like the library so much, I think.
[at the compliment, koby’s ears turn a few shades darker than his hair.] Thank you. Um, you look very – nice as well. I can’t tell you’ve been ill at all.
I do believe that career seamen will always crave the ocean, even knowing the difficulties the life presents. There is a sort of... a sort of call to it. I don't think I could explain it to anyone who hasn't been on a ship, though. You're fortunate that your... partner? Can understand.
[Tim told him not to use 'malewife.,
Goodsir takes the brochure happily, looking it over even though he knows what's on it.] Thank you. You know... [And here he sounds a little shy:] You may call me Harry. If you'd like.
[It is his name, after all. Although he's used to simply being called by his last.]
The 'phone' is quite remarkable, yes, but paper is much easier to navigate. Goodness, this library is huge - you must have a head for maps if you can remember every bit of it.
[Goodsir shakes his head with an awkward little laugh.]
I've had a little time to recuperate. There are some lesions that remain but the vast majority have healed quite satisfactorily. Wounds can reopen in severe cases of scurvy, you know. It's quite the sight to see - awful, but fascinating.
[He realises he's about to ramble about the advanced scurvy and shuts up, looking chagrined.]
Ah. Sorry. But, uhm, yes. Those physical ailments that can be reversed have been. I thank you for your concern.
[koby nods so emphatically his glasses fall out of his hair, land crooked on his nose, getting a sudden huff of laughter as he reaches up to adjust them.] That's -- yes, that's it exactly. You understand. Um, you'd like him, I think -- Quentin, my boyfriend. I think you'd get along, I mean. He's a navigator.
[the warmth is evident, radiating in every bit of koby's face, in the curl of his fond smile, carrying over as he looks up at mr. goodsir -- harry's face and nods.] Harry. Of course. And I'm afraid I cheated a bit and made a map for the library too -- here. [another sheet of paper, this one a copy of a hand-drawn map, outlining the various sections of the large, mildly confusing library.] In case there's anything you'd like to revisit later. I know for a fact that there'll be things about -- your world here. [he's nearly slipped, nearly said your ship, but he'd decided to let harry find it himself, in his own time. koby knows what's there isn't pleasant; he's already found and read it.]
Scurvy. [of course; he'd known that was likely, nearly inevitable after what he'd read harry and his crew had endured. still, there's an almost reverence in the horror that surrounds scurvy for a sailor. even now, the thing koby's stores had held the most of had been powdered citrus drinks, so great was the fear.] I'm so glad you're recovering. Please don't exert yourself too much, okay? If you need to take a break, we can.
[turning, koby starts the walk back to the front of the library, the best place to start the tour.] I try my best to, yes. I was part of the very first group of guests to arrive, so I've seen everything that's happened here. I want to help newcomers not make similar mistakes, if I can.
A navigator! Terribly impressive. Yes, yes I'd rather like to meet him.
[He's trying very hard to get along with these men's partners, initially as a courtesy but also because he hopes to make friends of them too.
Goodsir takes the map with a boyish grin, delighted.] Oh, I thank you! Yes, I am most curious to learn what I've missed.
[It doesn't occur to him that anyone else might be remotely interested in the fate of the Franklin Expedition. He assumes that to most it's just a boring old mystery, if anything.
Goodsir looks at Koby with the barest hint of mischief in his eyes.]
Well, now it's you that sounds like a doctor. But you're right, of course. I'll not let my pride cause further injury.
[He follows, happy to be guided. And even though he's seen a little of it already, Goodsir still looks at the room as if it's the most fascinating place he's ever been in.]
Koby, you're a remarkably kind young man. The world would be a better place if more of us were like you.
He's wonderful. [it's said with immense fondness, with a touch of youthful shyness that shows in the way koby's ears turn pinker, his grin widens, clearly just barely holding back the desire to ramble about how wonderful his boyfriend is.
the reaction to the map keeps the smile in place, as does the light teasing, which gets a soft huffy sound, a scrunch of koby's freckled nose.] I'm just saying. I'm not afraid to be bossy, you know. I can be nice and bossy.
[it's not until the compliment that koby's eyes flicker away, flattery and modesty warring for a moment.] Thank you. That's -- a very kind thing to say. I like being helpful when I can, it's all I've ever...really wanted to do. [and while that'd be corny, cheesy from anyone else, koby means it so visibly that it's impossible to mistake.]
[It's sweet, Goodsir thinks, to see someone so enamoured. It occurs to him that he's seen more declarations of romantic love in his short time here than he has ever before in his life. Is it perhaps a trifle inappropriate? Certainly. But it's still heartwarming.]
Oh dear, bossy are you? Well, you'll have no backtalk from me. I'm rarely very cheeky.
[Goodsir doesn't consider the sentiment corny at all. No, he just looks at Koby with dark eyes and smiles in perfect understanding.]
Yes. Yes, I can see that. I would only ever caution you not to let your good heart prevent you from looking after yourself.
Only when it's for the benefit of others. [koby says it primly, both arms folded over his clipboard, looking very pleased with himself. a year ago, maybe, he would've been all a-scramble to take back anything even mildly disrespectful, but -- well. that's growth.
and harry doesn't seem genuinely annoyed -- there's a warmth in his face, in his dark eyes, that is impossible to mistake. koby generally tries to refrain from using his abilities too blatantly with those he's just met, but there's a slight unseen nudge, like a hand on a shoulder or arm, just to begin to learn the shape of this new arrival, the hue of his consciousness.]
You're in good company. My crew often says the same. [albeit less politely -- it's more often nami physically pushing him out of the library and towards bed, or someone else scooping and carrying him there.] Though I think sometimes people assume I'm -- not as capable of withstanding things. It's an understandable assumption. [koby's slight, small, wide-eyed and pink-haired and overall speaking of vulnerability.] But I'm really much stronger than I look.
[Goodsir is not familiar with any sort of psychic ability, so he's not sure what he's feeling - he interprets Koby's probing instead as a sense that Koby is trustworthy and easy to open up to. Goodsir's mind is very much the same as his demeanor: warm, gentle, curious. There is a deeper layer to him that is the cold of operating rooms, of research papers.
Goodsir smiles.]
That is a terribly familiar sentiment. I myself am, ah, not perceived as particularly capable in many ways. Seafaring men, as you know, tend toward the rugged.
So please know that I believe you to be every bit as strong as anyone else.
[He would hate to see this lovely young man treated rudely just because he's kind.]
[the juxtaposition is a familiar one, koby's own earnest, sweet, wanting-to-please nature perpetually balancing out his curiosity, his sharp, keen awareness. it's comforting, has him relaxing even more, speaking more freely than he might otherwise.
case in point: koby turns and looks up, over the tops of his glasses, serious and solemn and matter-of-fact.] I think you seem perfectly capable. And you're smart and kind, that's better than -- being rugged, I think.
[a little huff, pushing his glasses up.] Being rugged is overrated.
Me neither. [though it’s taken time to get there, time to understand strength in all it’s forms – not just force or brute strength, but the sort of strength that makes people follow you, stay loyal to you.
koby blinks, then starts, face flushing deeper] I– yes, of course, I’m so sorry, um. This way.
[red-cheeked, ears flaming, he quickly leads the way past several stacks, around corners, moving with the effortless ease of long familiarity, until he stops in front of a long section against one wall, marked “history”. the tallest shelf is well above koby’s head, but he tips his chin up, smiling fondly at the books, like they’re old friends.]
This one, definitely. The best chair for reading is right there, [pointing with his pen at an overstuffed armchair in a sunbeam, with a beautiful view of the lake] and there’s always something new to read into. Your world is fascinating, you know.
You needn't apologise. [Said gently, because Goodsir is also forever apologising unnecessarily.] You've not done a single thing wrong.
[He follows along, referring to the map periodically. At 'history' he smiles and lets his gaze wander slowly from title to title before looking to the chair Koby has pointed out.]
Oh, yes. Yes, that looks perfect.
[He looks to Koby again, still smiling.] I suspect I'd say the same about yours. I don't suppose there are any volumes on it available to read...?
[He steps closer to the books, letting his fingers trace a few spines. His smile fades into something more thoughtful.]
It's strange to think of yourself as history. But if this place is, as they say, 2007, then I have over one hundred and fifty years to catch up on. I daresay most of it will probably be for the good. I've spoken to Mr. Laughlin at some length about the social changes even from his time to now, and he seems much happier for them.
[His fingers linger on a volume - Sad, Mad and Bad: Women and the Mind Doctors from 1800 - before he shakes his head and lets his hand drop.]
Forgive me Koby, I'm being maudlin. Please, tell me what part of our history so fascinates you.
I keep -- getting distracted. [a sheepish smile, a reflexive nudge of his glasses up his nose, lenses flashing with the dimming light.] I promised a tour, but I keep on talking and rambling and that's not -- well, it isn't what I said I'd do, and...
[koby trails off, feeling the shift in goodsir's mood, in his thoughts, away from the present and back towards something -- else, something in the past. it's not difficult to extrapolate what, exactly, he's thinking of. koby swallows hard, steps closer and, after a moment of scanning, taps a book at the beginning of a shelf.] Right around here. The 1840s. That's where you'll want to start.
[then he shakes his head, his turn to look wistful.] No, I'm afraid there's nothing about my world here. Just -- this one. Yours, I believe. That is -- I've read about Arctic expeditions. [he's read about the erebus and terror, specifically, but: time and place. he'll only admit to it if goodsir asks.
turning back to the shelf, koby smiles, then tugs the rolling ladder over -- because of course saltburnt has one of those. climbing a couple steps, he taps at a particular section with his pen.] Maritime history, of course. How this world developed sea travel, the Austronesian spread across the Pacific, the age of navigation, of exploration, the expeditions and trade routes from hundreds of years ago still taken today...
[he trails off, leaning against the ladder, expression somewhere between exhilarated and wistful.] It's the closest this place's history is to home.
Ah, but you're not taking into account that part of the reason for this tour is so that I can listen to you ramble. [He offers Koby a conspiratorial look.] I do the exact same thing, you see. So let us promise not to apologise for our enthusiasm distracting us, shall we?
[There are so many books. So many, many years. For the briefest moment Goodsir feels despair and a sort of swooning horror at the enormity of time. But then his natural curiosity and lust for knowledge rises up, spurred further by the beautiful look on Koby's face as he speaks of seafaring.]
I am sorry that you are so far from home. But selfishly, I am also pleased as it means I've the occasion to meet you.
And it is selfish, you know. I don't think I ever truly understood what it would feel like to never be able to return home until... well. Until it was too late.
[koby blinks downwards, doe-eyed in his surprise.] Is it? Really? You don’t – mind it? [there’s hopefulness there, that goodsir means it, that he genuinely doesn’t find koby’s endless chatter annoying at best and maddening at worst. leaning against the ladder, smiling:] All right, I promise.
[and then the subject shifts, and that despair, that horror sweeps out like a wave across the sand, and koby’s expression knits together, tight, mouth grim. he’ll need to explain that too, his ability to read emotion, to sense intent in the shape of someone’s thoughts when they stand too close – or, really, when they aren’t close at all. he’s already committed the exact hue of goodsir’s presence to memory, sure he can trail it through the house. sure he’ll know if it vanishes.
the thought is a heavy one, emphasized by the softly resigned note in goodsir’s voice when he speaks of his own fate, his own destiny. koby’s lost hours and hours of sleep thinking about the life he has to return to, the path he’s started on that he can’t turn back from, even though he cares for those in this house so, so deeply. but at least he has a life to return to.
a pause, then koby’s suddenly pushing the ladder, forcefully, sending it zipping down the stacks with somewhat alarming speed until he stops at another section, plucks a book free, then zooms back with it balanced in his arms.] Try– this one first? [he offers it, hesitant smile, understanding, solemn eyes, reaching down with the heavy encyclopedia of marine biology held out.] I find if I’m reading something serious – like history, or um…world events – it helps to have something fun when you need to take a break?
I don't mind at all. [Indeed, in Koby he thinks he's truly found a kindred spirit. Someone who understands the beauty found everywhere in the world, as well as someone who can examine its endless details.
Koby's sudden movement startles Goodsir, who is still blinking in surprise when the young man zooms back. He accepts the book and reads the title with a radiant smile.]
That sounds like an excellent plan.
[He opens the book and flips through, looking for the mammals. He finds what he's looking for and shows Koby - delphinapterus leucas, the beluga whale - and grins like a child.]
They are really sort of ridiculous looking, aren't they? But, here...
[More flipping. carcinus maenas: the European green crab.]
These fellows were such a part of my childhood. I caught far too many of them, really. I think that they are why I really started to wonder about how such marvelous things were put together.
[it’s the sort of joy that koby knows is difficult to maintain at sea – the business of running a ship, keeping it afloat and pointing in the right direction and on course takes so much energy, so much effort, so much time that more trivial pursuits take a backseat to more important things. he’s been fortunate to find space, in this strange pocket world, to pursue his interests.
and koby finds he wants the same for goodsir. he wants him to be able to grin that widely, transforming the weary lines of his still-too-thin face into something bright and brilliant. smiling back, he descends the ladder, leaning over to look at the pictures, the whales and the crabs.]
I’m afraid I know more about how they taste – my crew and I work at a restaurant here, and our chef is the greatest in this world or any other. He’s especially good with seafood. [earnestly:] Tim works there as well. You’re more than welcome to come and visit and have a meal, if you’d like.
Oh, yes! Tim did mention. I will absolutely be by. Fresh food prepared by a chef? I'll be downright spoiled.
[He's careful not to joke about tinned rations, partly to avoid the awkwardness and partly not to spiral about it. It's a strange relationship to be have with food: to be so desperate for it and yet a little frightened.
His first day in the manor he'd eaten too much in spite of knowing better and been sick. But his stomach is slowly catching up to his appetite.]
Tim is a lovely man, isn't he? I've had little occasion to meet any Americans before. It's a charming sort of accent he's got.
[koby smiles even wider, looking immensely pleased.] I'll let him know about your, ah -- situation, if you'd like? When I first met him, I couldn't stomach a lot of very rich things either, and he did a wonderful job making things that were still delicious, but not too elaborate.
[the mention of tim gets a thoughtful, bemused sort of sideways look.] He's wonderful, yes. He's been a really good friend since we both arrived. I'm glad you met, I think you'll get along just famously.
[then, blinking owlishly upwards:] Accent? I have an accent?
[Goodsir smiles.] Your tact is appreciated. Yes, if he wouldn't be offended by something with, ah, smaller portions? That would be lovely.
[Oblivious, his smile widens.] As am I. He's been an incredible resource of information, and a great comfort. And he's very... gallant? Yes. I admire that.
[A soft laugh.] Yes. But everyone does. Yours is more familiar sounding to me than some. The long vowels and all. But you've got the most lovely rising intonation!
Not at all. I was on a ship where I didn't eat very often, and he was very sympathetic, in his way. Sanji's a little, ah. [koby falters a bit, trying to find a tactful word, before settling on:] Abrasive, sometimes. But he doesn't mean it cruelly.
Do you? I'll have to let him know. [with the very smug, satisfied expression of a bestie about to tease mercilessly.] But I quite agree.
Oh. Thank you. [koby's blushing again, ears red, head ducking.] I think yours is very nice too. Your voice, I mean.
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goodsir says almost that exact thing, and the smile deepens, and koby grabs a clipboard off the table, flicking through the papers held there with practiced ease.] The feeling is completely mutual, Mr. Goodsir. There are a few of my crew here, as well as my [a beat, an instant of hesitation, then:] boyfriend, who’s a sailor as well. We all miss it, I think.
And it’s always nice to have something in common, when you’re getting to know someone. [the corniest line, but from koby it sounds nothing but earnest and sweet. he pulls a printed-out copy of his welcome brochure from the papers, offers it.] I’m also assuming that you prefer paper to the phones? I do too. It’s part of why I like the library so much, I think.
[at the compliment, koby’s ears turn a few shades darker than his hair.] Thank you. Um, you look very – nice as well. I can’t tell you’ve been ill at all.
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[Tim told him not to use 'malewife.,
Goodsir takes the brochure happily, looking it over even though he knows what's on it.] Thank you. You know... [And here he sounds a little shy:] You may call me Harry. If you'd like.
[It is his name, after all. Although he's used to simply being called by his last.]
The 'phone' is quite remarkable, yes, but paper is much easier to navigate. Goodness, this library is huge - you must have a head for maps if you can remember every bit of it.
[Goodsir shakes his head with an awkward little laugh.]
I've had a little time to recuperate. There are some lesions that remain but the vast majority have healed quite satisfactorily. Wounds can reopen in severe cases of scurvy, you know. It's quite the sight to see - awful, but fascinating.
[He realises he's about to ramble about the advanced scurvy and shuts up, looking chagrined.]
Ah. Sorry. But, uhm, yes. Those physical ailments that can be reversed have been. I thank you for your concern.
You often assist people new to the manor?
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[the warmth is evident, radiating in every bit of koby's face, in the curl of his fond smile, carrying over as he looks up at mr. goodsir -- harry's face and nods.] Harry. Of course. And I'm afraid I cheated a bit and made a map for the library too -- here. [another sheet of paper, this one a copy of a hand-drawn map, outlining the various sections of the large, mildly confusing library.] In case there's anything you'd like to revisit later. I know for a fact that there'll be things about -- your world here. [he's nearly slipped, nearly said your ship, but he'd decided to let harry find it himself, in his own time. koby knows what's there isn't pleasant; he's already found and read it.]
Scurvy. [of course; he'd known that was likely, nearly inevitable after what he'd read harry and his crew had endured. still, there's an almost reverence in the horror that surrounds scurvy for a sailor. even now, the thing koby's stores had held the most of had been powdered citrus drinks, so great was the fear.] I'm so glad you're recovering. Please don't exert yourself too much, okay? If you need to take a break, we can.
[turning, koby starts the walk back to the front of the library, the best place to start the tour.] I try my best to, yes. I was part of the very first group of guests to arrive, so I've seen everything that's happened here. I want to help newcomers not make similar mistakes, if I can.
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[He's trying very hard to get along with these men's partners, initially as a courtesy but also because he hopes to make friends of them too.
Goodsir takes the map with a boyish grin, delighted.] Oh, I thank you! Yes, I am most curious to learn what I've missed.
[It doesn't occur to him that anyone else might be remotely interested in the fate of the Franklin Expedition. He assumes that to most it's just a boring old mystery, if anything.
Goodsir looks at Koby with the barest hint of mischief in his eyes.]
Well, now it's you that sounds like a doctor. But you're right, of course. I'll not let my pride cause further injury.
[He follows, happy to be guided. And even though he's seen a little of it already, Goodsir still looks at the room as if it's the most fascinating place he's ever been in.]
Koby, you're a remarkably kind young man. The world would be a better place if more of us were like you.
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the reaction to the map keeps the smile in place, as does the light teasing, which gets a soft huffy sound, a scrunch of koby's freckled nose.] I'm just saying. I'm not afraid to be bossy, you know. I can be nice and bossy.
[it's not until the compliment that koby's eyes flicker away, flattery and modesty warring for a moment.] Thank you. That's -- a very kind thing to say. I like being helpful when I can, it's all I've ever...really wanted to do. [and while that'd be corny, cheesy from anyone else, koby means it so visibly that it's impossible to mistake.]
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Oh dear, bossy are you? Well, you'll have no backtalk from me. I'm rarely very cheeky.
[Goodsir doesn't consider the sentiment corny at all. No, he just looks at Koby with dark eyes and smiles in perfect understanding.]
Yes. Yes, I can see that. I would only ever caution you not to let your good heart prevent you from looking after yourself.
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and harry doesn't seem genuinely annoyed -- there's a warmth in his face, in his dark eyes, that is impossible to mistake. koby generally tries to refrain from using his abilities too blatantly with those he's just met, but there's a slight unseen nudge, like a hand on a shoulder or arm, just to begin to learn the shape of this new arrival, the hue of his consciousness.]
You're in good company. My crew often says the same. [albeit less politely -- it's more often nami physically pushing him out of the library and towards bed, or someone else scooping and carrying him there.] Though I think sometimes people assume I'm -- not as capable of withstanding things. It's an understandable assumption. [koby's slight, small, wide-eyed and pink-haired and overall speaking of vulnerability.] But I'm really much stronger than I look.
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Goodsir smiles.]
That is a terribly familiar sentiment. I myself am, ah, not perceived as particularly capable in many ways. Seafaring men, as you know, tend toward the rugged.
So please know that I believe you to be every bit as strong as anyone else.
[He would hate to see this lovely young man treated rudely just because he's kind.]
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case in point: koby turns and looks up, over the tops of his glasses, serious and solemn and matter-of-fact.] I think you seem perfectly capable. And you're smart and kind, that's better than -- being rugged, I think.
[a little huff, pushing his glasses up.] Being rugged is overrated.
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[Because he too values kindness and intelligence.]
Now, you must show me your very favourite part of this magnificent library. I believe seeing that will give me further insight into your character.
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koby blinks, then starts, face flushing deeper] I– yes, of course, I’m so sorry, um. This way.
[red-cheeked, ears flaming, he quickly leads the way past several stacks, around corners, moving with the effortless ease of long familiarity, until he stops in front of a long section against one wall, marked “history”. the tallest shelf is well above koby’s head, but he tips his chin up, smiling fondly at the books, like they’re old friends.]
This one, definitely. The best chair for reading is right there, [pointing with his pen at an overstuffed armchair in a sunbeam, with a beautiful view of the lake] and there’s always something new to read into. Your world is fascinating, you know.
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[He follows along, referring to the map periodically. At 'history' he smiles and lets his gaze wander slowly from title to title before looking to the chair Koby has pointed out.]
Oh, yes. Yes, that looks perfect.
[He looks to Koby again, still smiling.] I suspect I'd say the same about yours. I don't suppose there are any volumes on it available to read...?
[He steps closer to the books, letting his fingers trace a few spines. His smile fades into something more thoughtful.]
It's strange to think of yourself as history. But if this place is, as they say, 2007, then I have over one hundred and fifty years to catch up on. I daresay most of it will probably be for the good. I've spoken to Mr. Laughlin at some length about the social changes even from his time to now, and he seems much happier for them.
[His fingers linger on a volume - Sad, Mad and Bad: Women and the Mind Doctors from 1800 - before he shakes his head and lets his hand drop.]
Forgive me Koby, I'm being maudlin. Please, tell me what part of our history so fascinates you.
[He wants to know all of Koby's hyperfixations.]
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[koby trails off, feeling the shift in goodsir's mood, in his thoughts, away from the present and back towards something -- else, something in the past. it's not difficult to extrapolate what, exactly, he's thinking of. koby swallows hard, steps closer and, after a moment of scanning, taps a book at the beginning of a shelf.] Right around here. The 1840s. That's where you'll want to start.
[then he shakes his head, his turn to look wistful.] No, I'm afraid there's nothing about my world here. Just -- this one. Yours, I believe. That is -- I've read about Arctic expeditions. [he's read about the erebus and terror, specifically, but: time and place. he'll only admit to it if goodsir asks.
turning back to the shelf, koby smiles, then tugs the rolling ladder over -- because of course saltburnt has one of those. climbing a couple steps, he taps at a particular section with his pen.] Maritime history, of course. How this world developed sea travel, the Austronesian spread across the Pacific, the age of navigation, of exploration, the expeditions and trade routes from hundreds of years ago still taken today...
[he trails off, leaning against the ladder, expression somewhere between exhilarated and wistful.] It's the closest this place's history is to home.
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[There are so many books. So many, many years. For the briefest moment Goodsir feels despair and a sort of swooning horror at the enormity of time. But then his natural curiosity and lust for knowledge rises up, spurred further by the beautiful look on Koby's face as he speaks of seafaring.]
I am sorry that you are so far from home. But selfishly, I am also pleased as it means I've the occasion to meet you.
And it is selfish, you know. I don't think I ever truly understood what it would feel like to never be able to return home until... well. Until it was too late.
But we must make do.
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[and then the subject shifts, and that despair, that horror sweeps out like a wave across the sand, and koby’s expression knits together, tight, mouth grim. he’ll need to explain that too, his ability to read emotion, to sense intent in the shape of someone’s thoughts when they stand too close – or, really, when they aren’t close at all. he’s already committed the exact hue of goodsir’s presence to memory, sure he can trail it through the house. sure he’ll know if it vanishes.
the thought is a heavy one, emphasized by the softly resigned note in goodsir’s voice when he speaks of his own fate, his own destiny. koby’s lost hours and hours of sleep thinking about the life he has to return to, the path he’s started on that he can’t turn back from, even though he cares for those in this house so, so deeply. but at least he has a life to return to.
a pause, then koby’s suddenly pushing the ladder, forcefully, sending it zipping down the stacks with somewhat alarming speed until he stops at another section, plucks a book free, then zooms back with it balanced in his arms.] Try– this one first? [he offers it, hesitant smile, understanding, solemn eyes, reaching down with the heavy encyclopedia of marine biology held out.] I find if I’m reading something serious – like history, or um…world events – it helps to have something fun when you need to take a break?
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Koby's sudden movement startles Goodsir, who is still blinking in surprise when the young man zooms back. He accepts the book and reads the title with a radiant smile.]
That sounds like an excellent plan.
[He opens the book and flips through, looking for the mammals. He finds what he's looking for and shows Koby - delphinapterus leucas, the beluga whale - and grins like a child.]
They are really sort of ridiculous looking, aren't they? But, here...
[More flipping. carcinus maenas: the European green crab.]
These fellows were such a part of my childhood. I caught far too many of them, really. I think that they are why I really started to wonder about how such marvelous things were put together.
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and koby finds he wants the same for goodsir. he wants him to be able to grin that widely, transforming the weary lines of his still-too-thin face into something bright and brilliant. smiling back, he descends the ladder, leaning over to look at the pictures, the whales and the crabs.]
I’m afraid I know more about how they taste – my crew and I work at a restaurant here, and our chef is the greatest in this world or any other. He’s especially good with seafood. [earnestly:] Tim works there as well. You’re more than welcome to come and visit and have a meal, if you’d like.
cw: emeto reference
[He's careful not to joke about tinned rations, partly to avoid the awkwardness and partly not to spiral about it. It's a strange relationship to be have with food: to be so desperate for it and yet a little frightened.
His first day in the manor he'd eaten too much in spite of knowing better and been sick. But his stomach is slowly catching up to his appetite.]
Tim is a lovely man, isn't he? I've had little occasion to meet any Americans before. It's a charming sort of accent he's got.
As is yours, for that matter.
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[the mention of tim gets a thoughtful, bemused sort of sideways look.] He's wonderful, yes. He's been a really good friend since we both arrived. I'm glad you met, I think you'll get along just famously.
[then, blinking owlishly upwards:] Accent? I have an accent?
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[Oblivious, his smile widens.] As am I. He's been an incredible resource of information, and a great comfort. And he's very... gallant? Yes. I admire that.
[A soft laugh.] Yes. But everyone does. Yours is more familiar sounding to me than some. The long vowels and all. But you've got the most lovely rising intonation!
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Do you? I'll have to let him know. [with the very smug, satisfied expression of a bestie about to tease mercilessly.] But I quite agree.
Oh. Thank you. [koby's blushing again, ears red, head ducking.] I think yours is very nice too. Your voice, I mean.
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Still smiling, unaware.] He'd have made a lovely officer, in times past.
Oh, thank you. [A cheeky look.] That's good, since you'll be hearing so much of it.