"I have two problems," he amends, a smile playing on his mouth.
Then he leans back, breathing out, and favors Derrica with a warm look that's maybe a quarter exasperation.
"Satinalia's nearer than I thought, and I don't know what to get Wysteria, or Margaery, or Madame de Cedoux." A beat, and then he adds, "And none of them would ever let me forget it if I gave them something shitty."
There's a name he leaves out in this list, in this conversation, in asking her; and that's maybe a little bit by design.
"Yes," he agrees readily, in answer to her question. When he goes on, "I don't even know where to start," it isn't entirely about those three anymore.
"Last year, I'd just gotten here. I didn't know anyone besides Amos."
A little of Wysteria, Ellis. Derrica had introduced him to magic, and healing, and how to safely exist in a bar in Kirkwall all at the same time. He'd hardly been more than a new face with no idea what to make of Thedas, besides that he intended to leave as soon as he could.
"I didn't even know about the gift-giving until I started getting them."
Did he ever thank people for his? He must've, but it's so long ago.
"You might starter with someone less challenging than Madame de Cedoux," is a gentle sort of joke. Derrica understands what he's trying to ask.
Her first year in Riftwatch, it had been difficult too. She doesn't remember if she'd done any of it well, only that it must have been done well enough not to offend anyone. And as much as she thinks Holden is too thoughtful and considerate to do wrong by anyone her cares for, Derrica is certain that saying so aloud is not going to be sufficient comfort for him.
"People will be grateful for whatever they receive, you know," Derrica tells him after a moment. "But if you want me to try and help, I will."
There's a smile that plays on his face at her joke, the more serious answer. Yes, he can imagine they will; he's met so many good, kind people here, Derrica among them. A holiday is just a holiday. But...
"It works differently on a spaceship," he explains, less facetiously than before. "In space. The things you have..."
The things you have. He could've better described this a year ago, fresher to planetary living; a Belter would do a much better job of it. He's gotten complacent here, isn't sure how to feel about that.
"Space is tight, for one thing." She'd understand that, from sea living. "And anything you have, or wear, can become a weapon during battle. Clothes that can catch or get stuck are out. Jewelry's out. There are ways to personalize your cabins, but you don't want to fuck with the integrity of the bulkheads or get in the habit of keeping stuff out that you don't want hurtling at you at high speeds during maneuvers."
She might remember how spartan he'd used to keep his room in the early months of being here, ingrained habits. It's messier now: complacency.
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Across the table, Derrica has drawn up one leg and looped her arms around her calf. She tips her head, eyebrows raising in answer.
"Is it the coffee?" is a teasing guess.
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Then he leans back, breathing out, and favors Derrica with a warm look that's maybe a quarter exasperation.
"Satinalia's nearer than I thought, and I don't know what to get Wysteria, or Margaery, or Madame de Cedoux." A beat, and then he adds, "And none of them would ever let me forget it if I gave them something shitty."
There's a name he leaves out in this list, in this conversation, in asking her; and that's maybe a little bit by design.
no subject
Was Holden looking for reassurance? Hopefully not, because all Derrica can offer him is the truth.
"Are you asking me to help you?"
A question she already knows the answer to, really. Holden isn't bringing this up for no reason.
no subject
"Last year, I'd just gotten here. I didn't know anyone besides Amos."
A little of Wysteria, Ellis. Derrica had introduced him to magic, and healing, and how to safely exist in a bar in Kirkwall all at the same time. He'd hardly been more than a new face with no idea what to make of Thedas, besides that he intended to leave as soon as he could.
"I didn't even know about the gift-giving until I started getting them."
Did he ever thank people for his? He must've, but it's so long ago.
no subject
Her first year in Riftwatch, it had been difficult too. She doesn't remember if she'd done any of it well, only that it must have been done well enough not to offend anyone. And as much as she thinks Holden is too thoughtful and considerate to do wrong by anyone her cares for, Derrica is certain that saying so aloud is not going to be sufficient comfort for him.
"People will be grateful for whatever they receive, you know," Derrica tells him after a moment. "But if you want me to try and help, I will."
no subject
"It works differently on a spaceship," he explains, less facetiously than before. "In space. The things you have..."
The things you have. He could've better described this a year ago, fresher to planetary living; a Belter would do a much better job of it. He's gotten complacent here, isn't sure how to feel about that.
"Space is tight, for one thing." She'd understand that, from sea living. "And anything you have, or wear, can become a weapon during battle. Clothes that can catch or get stuck are out. Jewelry's out. There are ways to personalize your cabins, but you don't want to fuck with the integrity of the bulkheads or get in the habit of keeping stuff out that you don't want hurtling at you at high speeds during maneuvers."
She might remember how spartan he'd used to keep his room in the early months of being here, ingrained habits. It's messier now: complacency.