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“Stardust?” Her words are soft, inviting as warm milk with honey of the wild flowers given as a ward for unrelenting nightmares. It lifted invisible, oft claimed to be ignorable, burdens from weighted shoulders. Cadence which dislodged unspoken words and, simpler than that, made Dante want to cry.
Not from anything in particular, not anything he could pinpoint through the mess of a life he lived.
Dante trudged through Fortuna with his head low, gaze downcast and studying the time etched on neon-lit floors. Scuffs, divots, and stains not particularly interesting to anyone other than the avoidant. When his feet had taken him to Ticker mind and heart tried, and failed, catching up.
After too long of a moment in silence, Ticker placed a gentle touch on his shoulder.
“Hi.” Spurred to life, the words came through a sigh. Dante leaned into her touch, barely restraining from wrapping his arms tight around her and suffocating himself in her kindness.
Dante bit at the inside of his cheek.
“In need of advice, Stardust?” She reads him like a book. A very open book waving its pages, bleeding words, staining the hands of anyone brave enough to read it. Fortunately, Ticker wore gloves. She guided Dante to sit on a cargo box bound for a taxman's desk; Ticker managed a comfortable lean against it. No tarp would make a home in the nooks, crannies, and vents composing most of her body.
“It's just - “ Dante sighed, brows knitting tight together, weaving a question. Dante and romance had little acquaintance, often parting from each other with taboo bitterness, and so rarely was Ticker presented with it. “Gift giving is impossible. I think about one thing and keep thinking it’s perfect and then I see something or they say something and I - I - I just - Euhg!”
Ticker hummed, vividly picturing steam escaping from the Tenno's ears. “Easy now, Stardust. There's little use in working yourself up. Some might argue it never does.”
Dante groaned, burying his face into warm, scarred palms. “I know, I know.” came his muffled response, “It’s just - I can’t disappoint them, you know? Everything done to them …”
Ticker placed a hand on his knee and gave a gentle, encouraging squeeze. Silently she waited, having found it unhelpful to provide advice with muddy, lacking details.
Dante peaked through his fingers, sighed, then lowered his hands to grab hers.
“I think … Liquor?” Idle fingers interlaced with hers. “Darvo might have a few bottles of ganymede geyser water. Might. I’m not sure how much he had to drink to vomit half his body weight.” Dante shuddered, shoving the memory of that night deep, deep down.
Ticker laughed. Loud and happy.
“Sounds like an excellent plan, Stardust.”