[ For whatever it's worth, John listens to this entire tirade with an expression of extreme empathy. It's peak active listening: sounds of sympathetic acknowledgement in all the right places.
There's some common ground here. Tony's brief mention of a girlfriend, which John assumes means lover, twists sharply at the memory of Madi. In this one respect, John finds himself fortunate. He at least has the ability to simply go back.
After Tony's finished, John looks at him for a moment and then slides his cup across the table. It's good ale. It seems like the least he can do, since an outright spoken expression of sympathy would probably be a bad move. ]
Thank you. I'm sure I'll be able to use this.
[ Preemptively planning on regifting this. It's not even that he can't use hair oils or whatever it is Tony procured, it's just the principal of the matter. ]
Have a drink. I can tell you, I wasn't planning on receiving or getting anyone gifts [ untrue, but whatever ] so you've already exceeded my expectations for the holiday.
[ Tony takes the ale, a sideways twitch of his mouth accompanying his dragging the cup nearer. He'll hand it to these ren faires, they make good beer. He makes a mf sound into his drink at Silver's thanks to him. Don't mention it.
No, really.
Should John be overtaken but curiousity, he'll discover a rather simple pomade of a conventionally masculine, herbal scent, and not, like, a folded up exploded snake trick or something. ]
I was a few more months out from Christmas myself. Um, gift giving, same thing. [ Not really, but clarifying the distinction is trivial. ] Why'd Captain Rackham [ very enunciated ] set you up?
[ Which is theoretically John's way of commiserating. He might be marginally better at presents than Tony, but he's never really had occasion to bother.
But that's all something to unpack later. And talking about Jack Rackham's machinations is preferable to thinking at length about his own attachments and standing within Kirkwall. (And the person he would have preferred to give gifts to, still oceans away from him.) John folds his own hands over his cup, shrugging. ]
I can only guess, but I'd say it's his way of making himself at home here.
[ Did Jack put Flint's name in the box? Things John needs to follow up on at some future point. ]
We had some business dealings at home. I think this is his idea of a joke, though it appears—
[ And John does lift the jar, examine it for a moment. ]
[ --mumbled into his beer, which he has been drinking from as Silver spoke. Tony is not planning to linger long, but is happy to take advantage of a free drink for all his efforts. It feels cathartic in the moment to talk about Pepper in an out loud manner where someone can hear, better for the fact it's no one who has to give a shit, sympathetic noises aside.
And the jury's out if that's a feeling that'll last, but.
He stands, sliding mostly empty cup back towards Silver, nodding to the jar in his hand. ]
Enjoy it. Regift it. [ Either or. ] Don't mention it.
And then more or less switches off, deed accomplished, quest finished, XP accumulated. He makes his way out of the tavern as if everyone around him is in the way, door swinging on its hinges behind. ]
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no subject
There's some common ground here. Tony's brief mention of a girlfriend, which John assumes means lover, twists sharply at the memory of Madi. In this one respect, John finds himself fortunate. He at least has the ability to simply go back.
After Tony's finished, John looks at him for a moment and then slides his cup across the table. It's good ale. It seems like the least he can do, since an outright spoken expression of sympathy would probably be a bad move. ]
Thank you. I'm sure I'll be able to use this.
[ Preemptively planning on regifting this. It's not even that he can't use hair oils or whatever it is Tony procured, it's just the principal of the matter. ]
Have a drink. I can tell you, I wasn't planning on receiving or getting anyone gifts [ untrue, but whatever ] so you've already exceeded my expectations for the holiday.
no subject
No, really.
Should John be overtaken but curiousity, he'll discover a rather simple pomade of a conventionally masculine, herbal scent, and not, like, a folded up exploded snake trick or something. ]
I was a few more months out from Christmas myself. Um, gift giving, same thing. [ Not really, but clarifying the distinction is trivial. ] Why'd Captain Rackham [ very enunciated ] set you up?
no subject
[ Which is theoretically John's way of commiserating. He might be marginally better at presents than Tony, but he's never really had occasion to bother.
But that's all something to unpack later. And talking about Jack Rackham's machinations is preferable to thinking at length about his own attachments and standing within Kirkwall. (And the person he would have preferred to give gifts to, still oceans away from him.) John folds his own hands over his cup, shrugging. ]
I can only guess, but I'd say it's his way of making himself at home here.
[ Did Jack put Flint's name in the box? Things John needs to follow up on at some future point. ]
We had some business dealings at home. I think this is his idea of a joke, though it appears—
[ And John does lift the jar, examine it for a moment. ]
I've benefited from it, thanks to you.
no subject
[ --mumbled into his beer, which he has been drinking from as Silver spoke. Tony is not planning to linger long, but is happy to take advantage of a free drink for all his efforts. It feels cathartic in the moment to talk about Pepper in an out loud manner where someone can hear, better for the fact it's no one who has to give a shit, sympathetic noises aside.
And the jury's out if that's a feeling that'll last, but.
He stands, sliding mostly empty cup back towards Silver, nodding to the jar in his hand. ]
Enjoy it. Regift it. [ Either or. ] Don't mention it.
[ Feel that? We're done here. ]
no subject
Yes, he's regifting it. What a fun, weird talk. Thanks, Tony. ]
no subject
That thing. Back at you.
And then more or less switches off, deed accomplished, quest finished, XP accumulated. He makes his way out of the tavern as if everyone around him is in the way, door swinging on its hinges behind. ]