[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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[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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
[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?
no subject
[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!
no subject
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.
no subject
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.