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Scott raises an eyebrow. "Christmas?"
Before him, Shelby nods excitedly. "Yeah! Time really snuck up on us, didn't it? Who would've thought- Christmas, just a week away!"
"You can say that again." Drift agrees from where she's lounging on the ottoman in front of Scott's bed. "I haven't even got you a gift yet- Neither of you, really!"
"Aw, me neither!" Shelby falls back onto Scott's bed, just narrowly avoiding his legs from where he's sitting against the headboard, watching all of this with mild amusement and confusion alike. "It's terrible, honestly. It's really, really bad."
"Well so long as we're all in the same boat." Drift points out. She jabs a thumb in Scott's direction. "After all, I highly doubt this one's got gifts for us either."
Scott sees the opportunity for what it is and he clears his throat politely, sliding into the conversation. "Ahem, if I may."
Shelby looks over at him. "Yeah?"
"What…" Scott grimaces. He's still not the biggest fan of admitting to being clueless. "What is this… Christmas you all are talking about?"
Silence.
The looks Shelby and Drift are giving him– Scott imagines it would be the same look if he chose to break his promise to the doctor and went back to massacring and, or enslaving towns.
"What?!" Shelby shrieks at the same time as Drift's mouth falls open. "Did you– What– How do you not know what Christmas is?"
Drift frowns. "Did you not have Christmas, back in the day?"
"If I may be so kind as to remind the both of you, 'back in my day' was a good six hundred years ago and then some." Scott says.
Another beat of silence. Shelby and Drift share a look with each other.
"…Right." Drift murmurs. "Almost forgot about that."
"How did we almost forget about that?" Shelby mutters under their breath.
"Well." Drift turns back to Scott. "Alright then. Christmas… Well, Christmas is a holiday, Scott. It's a day–"
"Two days." Shelby interjects. "There's an eve and a day."
"Right– There's an eve and a day where you basically..." Drift pauses. She turns to look back at Shelby helplessly. "Shelb, how do we explain Christmas joy and whimsy to this man?"
Shelby lifts a finger and opens their mouth at the same time. But as Scott watches, they visibly deflate, mouth closing and hand lowering as they seem to come to the same realization as Drift.
"Oh…" Shelby's brow furrows. "That…"
Drift grimaces. "Yeah. That."
Scott watches this curious display for a moment longer before he decides to step in.
"Is Christmas the reason why there's so much green and lights everywhere?" He asks. "I presume those are all Christmas decorations."
"Oh!" Shelby lights up. "Yes! And that's why you see a lot of people shopping as well!"
"Hm, yes. And what are they shopping for?" Scott asks, prompting.
"Gifts, like we mentioned before." Drift responds. "Specifically for their loved ones. Family, friends… Some people like to give gifts to acquaintinces but those gifts aren't usually the biggest."
Scott nods, comprehending. "Ah. So the gift size, and presumable quality, are proportionate to the relationship?"
"Exactly."
"Well. Seems like a simple enough holiday to me." Scott muses.
Shelby and Drift share a look with each other again, where they appear to have some kind of silent conversation amongst themselves before they turn back towards Scott.
"Yeah." Drift says in the most unconvincing manner possible. "That's all there is to it."
Scott raises an eyebrow. But before he can say something–
"Alright!" Shelby claps her hands together. "We'll have to get gifts separately so the others don't know."
Scott blinks. "Is that part of it? Secrecy?"
"Yep! Now–" Shelby leans forwards, prompting both Drift and Scott to do the same. "So here's how I think we should do this…"
~~~
Gifts. Scott can do gifts.
He heads out into the town the next day when his fledgelings decide that this town they've all found themselves in, is as good as any to spend this famed "Christmas" in, being perfect in both size and liveliness. There's apparently a small festival going on that explains the presence of all the wooden, snow-lined stalls alongside the road that Scott is perusing now, entirely on his own.
At the current moment, Shelby had gone out earlier today, only to return with two conspicuous lumps under her coat and while she worked on wrapping presents, Drift went out only to return as well to switch rooms with Shelby after she'd finished wrapping Scott's present to then wrap Drift's present in Scott's room to which Scott left as well.
Which is all a long-winded way of saying, Scott's been left on his own to figure out what to get.
Scott runs his eyes over the thousandth stall showing off wooden toys of polished oak and sighs. His breath doesn't escape in a cloud like the rest of the townspeople, who all huff and puff so much it nearly creates its own fog but thankfully, it's also for that reason that no one notices.
The town is lively for after sundown. People still crowd the streets and the streets themselves are still well-populated with horsedrawn carriages that occasionally splash up the melted slush and snow lining cobblestone roads. Steam rises from stalls selling a variety of treats and hot drinks and the air is alight with vendors calling out their wares and the conversational aspect of the crowd itself. Lights strung from stall to stall, from roof to roof, create a myriad of colors overhead as well as lighting up the space almost bright enough to be considered daytime, minus the burning.
It's all rather curious. Scott pauses for a moment to observe the large pine tree that had been placed in the middle of it all.
The pine tree is a rich evergreen that's further emphasized by its snow-laden branches and the colorful baubles that ranged from vibrant reds to shimmering golds and rich blues hung from them. It's also lit by strung lights, ones that are more delicate and thin than the ones hung from the roof and stalls.
Scott peers at it curious and wonders as to its purpose. Its then that the space beside him fills.
He doesn't immediately look to the side. "Abolish."
Beside Scott, the Veylock dips his head in greeting. "Scott."
A moment passes. People continue passing by all around the two of them like a stream running around two stones, fluid and uncaring for their presence no matter how static.
Or maybe they just think Scott and Abolish are both admiring the tree. That could also be possible.
Scott turns to look, then, only to find Abolish wearing more color than he's ever seen him wear.
The color scheme is still largely black and white, with a long woolen coat the color of the night sky and gloves the color of snow but wrapped around Abolish's neck, high enough to reach his chin is a striped scarf of red and persimmon that flutters behind him when the wind blows by at just the right angle.
Curious.
"Feeling the festive joy, are we?" Scott teases. "That's quite the color on you, Veylock."
Abolish shrugs. "I was told it suits me."
"Were you?"
"Indeed." Abolish looks at Scott. "What about you? Are you out purchasing gifts?"
Scott clicks his tongue. "Goodness. Why ask when you already know?"
"Touche."
The conversation falls off again after that. Scott lets out a thoughtless hum, staring up at the tree as he watches Abolish's breath escape in even, steady puffs out the side of his field of view.
"…Do you know what to get?"
Scott shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Of course. Who do you make me out to be, hm? I'm great at giving gifts. I'm rather wealthy, don't you know?"
A breath. Scott doesn't need to look to know that Abolish is staring at him, unamused and entirely unconvinced. He really couldn't blame Abolish either– He laid it on rather thick, then.
Abolish sighs. "This way."
Scott's mouth falls open at the sheer audacity that comes with anyone telling him what to do when he remembers, right, of course, this is the man Scott himself asked to keep him in check should he return to his old ways so Scott shuts his mouth and hurries to sidle up to Abolish as he leaves the tree behind in favor of the vendor stalls once again.
"Tell me, what does Shelby enjoy?" Abolish asks as he and Scott walks past countless stalls selling anywhere from toys to sweaters to various gadgets.
"Hm…" Scott tilts his head to one side, considering. "Everything, it would seem."
To his surprise, Abolish chuckles, a brief, breathy sound that leaks into his words, up until the inhale. "Of course. What is the first thing that comes to mind, then?"
Scott blinks. The answer comes immediately. "Writing."
Abolish stops walking abruptly. Scott almost walks right by and he's turning with snark on the tongue when the gleam of black and gold beside Abolish catches his eye and–
"Oh!" Scott sidles up the stand, ignoring the look of interest from the vendor to peer over the open display boxes of velvet coverings and pristine writing utensils nestled inside. "Fountain pens. And rather high quality and expensive ones at that."
Abolish steps up beside Scott, eyes trained on his face.
"Suitable, isn't it?" Abolish asks.
Scott looks up from the pens. Turning towards Abolish, Scott's met with the same neutrality and infuriating nonchalance as there always was in the smooth lines of Abolish's expression, the loose yet untelling set of his jaw, and the faultless plane between his brows.
But there's an intensity to his eyes that Scott's not sure what to make of, a kind of focus that's akin to what scared Scott about Abolish at first just… softer, strangely enough.
"…Quite." Scott concedes after some time with a obliging, cheeky smile.
With that, he turns back to choosing a pen out of the many that would be… suitable, in the words of a certain Veylock.
In the end. Scott chooses a pen that is sleek and professional, one that he knows will make Shelby feel "cool" while holding it which gets packed away in a neat little box that matches it and tied up in a thin silver bow. He's preening as he walks over to Abolish, who had retreated across the street during the transaction to stand, tall and proper as always with his arms tucked behind his back.
"That's one down." Scott says, holding up the small paper bag that came with the pen. "Only one other to go."
Abolish nods. "Good. I presume you have the rest handled, then."
Scott blinks. "Ah. Yes, I suppose I do."
"Very well." Abolish turns. "I will see you around then."
Scott startles. "Wait–"
Abolish stops. He looks over his shoulder at Scott, curious.
Biting the inside of his cheek, Scott looks off into the distance even as the awareness ofAbolish's presence presses in. He has an idea, one that he's already in the process of acting upon seeing as he's made Abolish stay but goodness, is he really doing this–
Scott sighs. Who is he kidding, of course he is.
"I'm not the kind of man who leaves debts unpaid." Scott says absently, turning to face Abolish again with a hand on his hip. "So don't think you're getting out of this."
Abolish's brows raise. "Getting out of what?"
"Hush." Scott tilts his head to one side, promtping. "Come along now, I'm getting you something."
To Scott's pleasure, surprise visibly flickers across Abolish's expression in the widening of his eyes and the tightening of his jaw even as he follows after Scott obligingly.
Looking over the stands again, Scott thinks back to the question Abolish asked him about Shelby that led him to choose the pen for them.
Enjoyment… Enjoyment…
Scott's not sure he's ever seen Abolish enjoy something, at least not the same way that Shelby so visibly lights up whenever anything related to her "fanfictions" are brought up, whether that be questions about what she's working on or opportunities to continue working on something. But surely, there must be something, right?
Scott looks off to one side at Abolish. His eyes land on Abolish's gloves in how bright and starkly white they are but now that he's looking…
They're just regular, thin butler gloves.
Strange, seeing as humans like Abolish would certain feel the chill in the air given how thick the gloves Scott sees the townspeople milling about are wearing. But then again, it might be because of how thick they are.
Curious. But given those facts, Scott believes he can work with them.
And right as he thinks that, Scott catches sight of a store aglow with warm light with displays upon displays of various gloves and mittens, ranging from slim leather ones to heavy, fluffy knitted ones.
Perfect. Scott stops abruptly, pivoting to block the store from Abolish's sight and to stop him from walking forwards again.
"Close your eyes." Scott instructs, matter-of-fact. "And wait here."
To which Abolish looks at Scott funny. But when he listens, Scott strides off in the direction of the glove store in hopes of finding thicker, winter gloves that still maintain the kind of dexterity that Scott imagines someone like Abolish would want, especially in his line of work. It takes a bit but eventually, Scott finds the perfect pair: Made from leather, likely formfitting, fur-lined along the inside for warmth, and the same kind of pristine white just with the added benefit of not being nearly as easy to stain.
The transaction itself passes in hardly a minute in comparison to the actual finding of the product. Scott retrieves the packaged gloves with a charming smile and a dip of his head before returning to Abolish's side who still has his eyes closed.
"Hold out your hands." Scott says.
Abolish does.
And for a moment, Scott considers just placing the package into Abolish's hands and just leaving it at that. After all, Shelby and Drift did say that part of the "Christmas fun" was the secrecy leading up to the day of the reveal.
But come on– Here lies an opportunity in which Scott could potentially get the Veylock to squirm a little. How can he pass it up?
So Scott ends up unwrapping the package himself, the sound of crinkling paper causing a furrow to briefly appear in between Abolish's brows even as he keeps his eyes closed. However, when Scott tugs at one of his gloves after holding the new ones under his elbow while he does so, Abolish's eyelids flutter, well on their way into opening.
"Keep those eyes closed for me." Scott says, successfully tugging off one of Abolish's gloves and tucking it into his pocket before reaching for the other one. "Trust me."
A corner of Abolish's lips twitch, disbelievingly amused.
"Oh please, untrustworthy as I might be, I wouldn't steal your gloves, who do you take me for?" Scott huffs, tucking Abolish's other glove into his pocket. "I'm above thievery."
"Of course." Abolish murmurs. "Massacres are more your style."
"Hm… Haven't you noticed that's not quite the case anymore? I hear that kindness and compassion are in, now."
"Are they?"
"Mhm." Scott retrieves the new gloves. "I was told it suits me."
Something in Abolish's face smooths out at that. But then it tenses again as Scott fiddles with his hands and the new gloves, clearly startled at the unexpected motion and new texture. And once both gloves are on–
Abolish's eyes open before Scott can tell him to do so and the look that appears on that usually unaffected, untouchable face of his–
"There we are." Scott steps back, placing one hand on his hip as he looks up at Abolish's astonished expression and beams pridefully. "How is that? Quite the 'suitable' gift, isn't it?"
Abolish looks up, eyes wide even as he flexes his fingers, clearly feeling out the dexterity, warmth, and whatever else of the gloves which, from what Scott can tell, is satisfactory to him if nothing else.
But just as Abolish opens his mouth to say something–
"Hey Scott!"
Scott startles, looking to the side to see none other than Pearl and Cleo approaching, one visibly more pleased to see him than the other. At the realization that the call included only him, Scott whips back around, only to find that Abolish had vanished.
Honestly, Scott muses as he turns his attention back to the approaching Pearl and Cleo. Abolish is already inhuman enough, with how swift he is. Might as well make it official at this point.
But in any case.
Presumably to hide her werewolf traits, Pearl is wearing a thick, woolen red hat that falls over her hair and a long, similary thick dark skirt under a white jacket that serves as the only sign that something might be off for how potentially visibly thin it is. Beside her, Cleo wears a dark green coat over a long black skirt that goes down to her fur-lined boots as well as a grim expression, as though Scott's very presence means bad news.
"Fancy seeing you here!" Pearl says, coming to a stop before Scott and subsequently forcing Cleo to do the same, what with their arms interlocked the way they are. "What are you doing?"
"I'm purchasing gifts." Scott responds, nodding down at the bag he has in one hand.
"Aw, how nice! For Shelby and Drift?"
"Why, of course." Scott presses the palm of his free hand to his chest with a sigh. "Honestly, who do you make me out for?"
"A dick and a prick." Cleo deadpans before Pearl could respond.
Scott gasps. "Now what on earth did I do to deserve that?"
"Generally exist, I imagine."
"That's just simply rude." Scott huffs. "And here I was thinking I'd ask you and your puppy what you'd like for Christmas."
"Oh, well that's just sweet." Pearl cuts in right as Cleo opens their mouth. "But we don't really need anything! I mean– I'd love to have some of these sweets but gosh, they just taste like ash now…"
Scott blinks. He slips a hand into his pocket, hoping that what he's looking for his there and when his fingertips bump into a glass vial–
"Does your lover not know or did they not tell you?" Scott asks as he pulls out a little vial of blood and shakes it. "If you add a bit of blood to human food, given that it has no garlic, it'll make it so that a bit of its original taste will return. It won't be as strong as it was before, of course, nor will it be as good as blood but it'll do if you're really craving something human."
Pearl's mouth falls open. She whips around, staring at Cleo with a look of absolute betrayal to which Cleo does nothing more than shrug to with a barely restrained smile.
"Holy spirits–" Pearl takes the vial Scott offers to her with a beaming grin. "This changes everything. I'm definitely going to go on an absolute rampage with these dessert stalls."
"You are not." Cleo sighs, snatching the vial from Pearl. "I don't need a hyperactive wolf on my hands, thank you."
"Aw, boo." Pearl pouts. She turns back to Scott with a sheepish smile. "Well, anyways. Before me and Cleo head off for sweet treats and goodies, is there something we can do for you?"
The polite refusal immediately rises to the forefront of Scott's tongue before he reconsiders, especially upon meeting Cleo's skeptical eyes.
"…I'm trying to find a gift for Drift." Scott admits. He preens at the way Cleo's brows raise at his confession.
"Oh!" Pearl perks up. "She's the… She has the monocle, doesn't she? The detective one?"
Scott nods.
"She's been talking about updating her fashion style, last I heard from her when you all visited." Pearl muses. Her hat twitches, presumably as one of her ears flick subconsciously in thought. "Maybe you could get something related to that?"
Scott's brows raise. "Oh? She's still on about that?"
"She didn't want to disappoint you." Cleo cuts in bluntly. "Even with something as menial as fashion."
"…Ah." Scott frowns, looking off into the distance at the countless clothing stores in a different light. "I see."
He supposes it makes sense, all things considered though he hopes that what Pearl and Cleo are saying is nothing more than an overexaggeration. Surely, Drift is not still so wary of Scott to think something like fashion would hold genuine, substantial weight behind a mere tease.
"I'll be sure to go have a look, then." Scott says when he turns back to Pearl and Cleo with a smile curling at the edges of his lips. "Thank you for the pointer~"
"Of course!" Pearl responds as she pulls Cleo away towards several steaming stands. "Happy shopping! Hope to see you all soon!"
"No we don't." Scott hears Cleo mutter under their breath to which Pearl just smacks them lightly.
Scott stares at the display and there's a twinge in his chest, a strange ache that he can't quite explain. It's akin to a faint hunger, if it wasn't for the fact that it wasn't originating from his stomach and the fact that he drank some bottled animal blood prior to this outing and, most importantly–
How it feels to be yawning open inside him, a pulsating emptiness that only spreads the longer he stares at Cleo and Pearl's disappearing silhouettes and he imagines himself in one of their shoes with–
Scott turns away. No matter.
There is a fashion statement to be contributed to. This grief nonsense can wait.
But still, it lingers, especially as Scott peruses the racks of clothing for something he thinks would be suitable for Drift but still be considered a step up for what she already has– When his hand lingers on a coat, Scott can almost imagine someone's voice humming long, thoughtful, and dramatic before shaking his head quickly.
"Nuh-uh." Avid would probably say, if he were here. "That's more for you, not Drifty."
Scott inhales sharply. He continues on.
Eventually, he settles on a different coat, one that's long and dramatic in a trench coat style that's a lovely rich maroon that would suit Drift while being subtly dramatic in the way Scott thinks she might be looking for.
After stepping outside of the store, though, now with two gifts on his hands, Scott peers down at them.
A thought occurs to him, then. He stands there for a moment, mulling it over even as something in his chest twists at the thought, causing a faint static to settle over his senses as the heaviness that had become so constant suddenly gain just a pound of weight.
Scott looks at the vendor stalls again.
And if he ends up returning to the inn later than either Shelby and Drift did, the both of them immediately presumed the reason to be because of how long it took Scott to choose their respective gifts.
This assumption, alongside their excitement for the next coming days, also assisted Scott in hiding the two extra packages he purchased away from sight until he's able to slip out later to drop them off.
~~~
Scott emerges from his bat form in a flutter of his cloak, drifting down to the ground below smoothly and quietly.
Oakhurst greets him as it always did: Quiet, dreary, and dark.
The waters of this specific stop greets him, quietly splashing against the shore where a gravestone stands, low and quiet in the darkness. Landing before it, Scott finds himself with a myriad of conflicting sentiments warring with each other, with the best way to identify them being: A blame game.
Scott sees where he went wrong. He sees where ruin was already present in Pyro. He sees where he intentionally encouraged it. He sees where they did something of their own voilition. On and on and on it goes until Scott's feeling sick enough to vomit.
No matter. Scott reaches into the folds of his cloak and retrieves a package.
"…Here you go, Pyro." He murmurs, placing the package carefully on the dirt before the stone. It'll sure get ruined in less than a day but… it's not like Scott doesn't have money to waste, not that this is money wasted. "I hope you enjoy it. I was told it's a scholarly text."
Scott ignores the twinge of nausea that comes with the distant awareness that he knows little else about his first fledgeling, opting to turn and walk away.
The next stop, Scott walks to himself on his own two feet. Batting is always an option, once enough time has passed in between for recovery but for the same reason why he, Shelby, and Drift often take a combination of trains and carriages back instead of just batting back–
There's something to be said about the journey itself.
Scott crests over the hill to a now-familiar sight. No matter how many times its been, he's still rather convinced that getting staked would hurt less than the sharp, awful ache of standing face to face with cold stone instead of a lively body that is the embodiment of sunshine itself without the burns.
But still–
"Hello, dear Avid." Scott murmurs, voice thick as he sits down, settling before the grave. "I'm told it's Christmas."
Scott pauses, considering.
"Or rather, the eve of such a thing." He corrects. He huffs, shaking his head. "I'm still not quite sure what the difference between the eve and the day is but it does allow me to split my time rather nicely between all of you. You all are quite the clingy bunch, I'll have you know."
A soft gust of wind chooses to blow through then, causing the leaves to rustle in a way that's a rough approximination to a certain someone's laugh. The sound causes Scott's throat to tighten and his nose to burn.
"Not that… you are able to ask for my time anymore." He murmurs thickly. Scott sighs, long and theatric, in hopes of clearing things up, lazily swiping a thumb under his eyes. "But here I am, giving it to you anyways. Willingly."
Scott chuckles. The wind laughs with him.
"Who would've thought, hm?" He muses.
The air falls still. In the distance, the wind continues to disturb the leaves but here, on this hilltop, there is silence, just as there is a stark absence that Scott doesn't think he'll ever quite get used to, even after years upon years have passed.
But he supposes there are ways to bear with it, as he's found over time.
"Anyways, I've brought you a new cloak." Scott says abruptly the moment the silence gets to be too much. He pulls out the last package from under his cloak, a soft thing wrapped in waterproof material. "I know how much you like mine but you must admit, the thing is old and will likely fall apart if the wind so much as blows it the wrong direction."
In his mind, Scott hears him. Hears Avid.
"It's yours, though!"
An almost pout and crossed arms. Scott can picture it in his mind alongside Avid's voice.
"Besides, this one's the exact same color though I doubt it's been dyed with blood." Scott continues. His hand lingers on the package. "Perhaps it's been dyed with the petals of poppy flowers or maybe roses. I wouldn't know either way."
A chill sweeps through the hilltop alongside the wind, throwing Scott's cloak off to one side as though to illuminate how he, alone, is present at this moment.
To which Scott only shuffles forwards, getting closer to the gravestone the same way he might if it was actually a person.
"…In any case, I do believe the saying goes as such, my dear." Scott murmurs.
Bracing a hand against the grave, Scott leans forwards, slow and careful, like moving any faster would break him. The stone is cold and rough and entirely unpleasant against his lips when he kisses it but his imagination fills in the rest.
A catch in breath. The way he'd be able to feel lips curling up into a giddy, uncontrollable smile. The emotion behind the forceful press back, pushing into the contact with a kind of delight Scott never thought he'd ever inspire in someone.
When Scott pulls back, the illusion breaks. He stares at the impersonal stone, feels the surface bite against the palm of his hand and he aches.
But still, Scott finds it in himself to smile, however small.
"Merry Christmas, Avid." He says quietly. "I hope you have a good one, if you have one at all."
~~~
The next morning– Or rather, evening given their reverse circadian rhythm– Scott is awoken when someone all but throws themself on top of him, landing against his chest solidly with a giggle.
"Scott!" Shelby's cheerful voice greets him. "Get up, get up, it's Christmas!"
Scott squints, looking out the window to see the sky already darkening. "It seems to have been Christmas for some time now, Shelby."
"Oh come on, you know what I mean!"
Scott huffs, rolls his eyes, and wraps his arms around Shelby, pulling them closer and tighter against his chest, tucking her head under his chin so that there is no space between them, burying his face into her hair.
His hold is tight. Too tight.
Scott knows this because he feels Shelby shift. A hand tentatively comes to rest against his arm.
"…Scott?"
Scott hums, quizzical and casual like he isn't holding Shelby as though she'll disappear if he doesn't hold on tightly enough or that he'll shatter without the assurance of her living weight against him.
The chill of the prior day remains, weighing heavy in his chest as a stark absence that he can feel like a stake lodged between his ribs. It only lifts with Shelby in his arms, releasing more when Scott hears the door click open to announce Drift's presence. He hears it when Drift pauses at the door, clearly taking in the sight before them.
"Is… he okay?"
Before Shelby could answer for him, Scott loosens his hold, wriggling out from beneath them to sit up, brushing off the front of his shirt as though nothing was amiss.
"Perfectly fine." He says easily. "Now, what do we do, exactly?"
Shelby stares at him. "Huh?"
"It's Christmas, isn't it?" Scott prompts. "What do we do now that it is the day instead of the eve?"
"Oh!" Shelby jumps, all but leaping off the bed. "Right! I forgot to bring in my presents!"
Scott watches her scurry off with warmth in his chest and a faint smile on his face before something about Drift catches his attention. Meeting her eyes, Scott only raises an eyebrow to her scrutinizing expression.
"...Yes?" He asks.
Drift peers at him for a moment longer before she shakes her head. "Nothing."
The door to Scott's inn room swings open soon after with Shelby holding an armful of wrapped presents-- Presumably a combination of both her and Drift's-- that she deposits at the foot of Scott's bed.
"Okay, so now you hand out gifts to the person they're going to!" Shelby explains. She snags one from the side, a medium sized box wrapped in wrinkly gold and red paper. "Like this! Scott, this one's for you."
"Ah." Scott takes the box, dipping his head in acknowledgement. "Thank you."
"And now you open it." Drift says, nodding at the box. "Unwrap it and see what you got."
Scott does. It ends up being a book.
"It's a classic!" Shelby explains as Scott picks it up, observing the cover then the back. "It's also rather recent so… hope you like it, Scott!"
Scott hums, appraising. "I'm sure I will. Thank you, Shelby."
The rest of the evening goes about the same. This being the first real Crhistmas for Scott, all of his presents end up being unwrapped first (Drift got him a new shirt with a flowy, fluffy center that saves him the time to need to put on his caravet everyday), leaving him to simply sit and watch as Drift and Shelby unwrap theirs which turned out to be a rather pleasant experience, especially when they got to unwrapping the presents Scott picked out for them.
"Oh, a pen!" Shelby gasps, their expression lighting up. "It's beautiful! Thank you!"
"Of course." Scott responds with a wave of his hand. "I thought it'd be good for writing your… what is it. Fanfiction?"
"It will be!" Shelby throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Thank you, again! It's perfect!"
A faint smile spreads across Scott's face in tandem to the blossoming warmth within him, the fondness that grows and spreads throughout his ribs and down his arms even as he pats Shelby on the back to return the affection.
"You're welcome, Shelby." Scott says quietly and all too genuinely. "I'm glad you like it."
And when it was Drift's turn–
"Dang, look at this coat!" Drift whistles, holding it up by the shoulders with a big grin. "I'm gonna look so good in this, you better watch out Scott!"
Scott snorts. "You wish. And besides, I picked it out so the credit is all mine."
"Come on, now, give me this at least!"
Scott laughs, a short, ungrateful bark of a sound but he lets the interaction die off there, right as Drift moves on to Shelby's gift.
He's still not entirely sure as to what the whole point of this holiday is– It seems very gift-centric and that's about it but as Scott sits back and watches, as well as reflecting back on all that has happened the day prior with those he'd run into, he's beginning to think that he might be getting some kind of idea.
The gift-giving, the connections– They're one in the same but not in the sense of transaction but rather… appreciation.
It's a curious thought but even as Scott mulls it over, he finds himself thinking.
This Christmas thing–
Scott smiles, leaning back on one hand while he watches Shelby all but pounce Drift with a gleeful squeal.
–It's rather nice.