He doesn't get much time to react to being held by the scruff of his neck like a kitten, or to the silly names he's being called, all new though somewhat endearing still. If only because of who seems to be calling him that, who is witness to the affair. Roland shakes his head, a retort ready to fling in Tidus's direction, when he stops and stares. Listens.
Gifts. More gifts. The blanket feels oddly weighted on the crook of his elbow as Tidus enumerates one by one, each gift and what it's for. The hair ties catch his attention, of course. But in the line of hair, the thought that's behind giving him specific haircare products, oils in small bottles that leave him oddly speechless. His hands drift to each item with such slow, gentle movements it seems like he's afraid to touch them; might break them or lose them before he can even process there's more than the first. To distract himself, he opens the cork of each bottle to waft the scent closer to his nose, sampling each fragrance. It shocks him that it smells exactly like what he might have chosen himself. Subtle undertones, nothing too strong but it's enough to leave an impression. The tub of lotion is also studied closely, but at this point, they're nothing but things to busy himself with. An excuse to look down and keep his gaze low. There is a slow creep of red starting from the base of his neck moving up to his ears, his cheeks. His mood shifts, and now the president won't even make eye contact with either of them, moving to sit on the opposite side where Tidus has parked himself.
Inigo beats him to the punch, just as he readies to send another wave of thank-you's to both of them. Another one. Another gift. His fingers feel shaky as he opens it, glancing up at the two who watch him with sharp eyes for but a split second. Of course, it's beautiful. Wholly unexpected. Something he would wear on special events in the White House where he could afford to be himself and not the bold decision-maker everyone needs him to be. Welcoming families in during the holidays, building chocolate cakes with kids on Valentine's Day. Jewel colored, flower cufflinks, and another pin for his collar. Easily a choice that both of them could have made for him but it's a lot, overwhelming, and he can't feel his face for some reason. Had a mirror been held up to him now, Roland would have recoiled, his usually olive-toned skin currently tinged in deep blush.
He can't even remember the last time someone gave him a gift that was sincere. Not a bribery effort to butter him up to sign something, or negotiate a deal. Grimm gifted him his Chief Consul garb, but that was an effort from the people; a reminder that he owed the citizens his life. But these? Hair ties, oils, skincare and accessories to a suit he doesn't even have on the train - these were deliberated on and given without expectation. A real gift, freely granted without condition. From the heart.
Roland barely hears Inigo's jab. He inhales shakily, quietly though, and a hand drifts to cover his mouth and nose looking very much akin to thinking...but he's not. In fact, no thoughts come to mind at all. He's feeling a lot, though. Heart beating, palpitating almost. It's sweet. This is too sweet that he doesn't know what to tell them. His face is hot against his palm.
"...I-Irivar has cufflinks?" Is all he can manage to stammer out with as much grace as his condition can afford. Hands resuming to touch whatever it can on the table, arranging each gift with precision that wasn't necessary. He follows it up with a quick, equally shaky, "I..I don't know what to say." Before covering his mouth again.
no subject
Gifts. More gifts. The blanket feels oddly weighted on the crook of his elbow as Tidus enumerates one by one, each gift and what it's for. The hair ties catch his attention, of course. But in the line of hair, the thought that's behind giving him specific haircare products, oils in small bottles that leave him oddly speechless. His hands drift to each item with such slow, gentle movements it seems like he's afraid to touch them; might break them or lose them before he can even process there's more than the first. To distract himself, he opens the cork of each bottle to waft the scent closer to his nose, sampling each fragrance. It shocks him that it smells exactly like what he might have chosen himself. Subtle undertones, nothing too strong but it's enough to leave an impression. The tub of lotion is also studied closely, but at this point, they're nothing but things to busy himself with. An excuse to look down and keep his gaze low. There is a slow creep of red starting from the base of his neck moving up to his ears, his cheeks. His mood shifts, and now the president won't even make eye contact with either of them, moving to sit on the opposite side where Tidus has parked himself.
Inigo beats him to the punch, just as he readies to send another wave of thank-you's to both of them. Another one. Another gift. His fingers feel shaky as he opens it, glancing up at the two who watch him with sharp eyes for but a split second. Of course, it's beautiful. Wholly unexpected. Something he would wear on special events in the White House where he could afford to be himself and not the bold decision-maker everyone needs him to be. Welcoming families in during the holidays, building chocolate cakes with kids on Valentine's Day. Jewel colored, flower cufflinks, and another pin for his collar. Easily a choice that both of them could have made for him but it's a lot, overwhelming, and he can't feel his face for some reason. Had a mirror been held up to him now, Roland would have recoiled, his usually olive-toned skin currently tinged in deep blush.
He can't even remember the last time someone gave him a gift that was sincere. Not a bribery effort to butter him up to sign something, or negotiate a deal. Grimm gifted him his Chief Consul garb, but that was an effort from the people; a reminder that he owed the citizens his life. But these? Hair ties, oils, skincare and accessories to a suit he doesn't even have on the train - these were deliberated on and given without expectation. A real gift, freely granted without condition. From the heart.
Roland barely hears Inigo's jab. He inhales shakily, quietly though, and a hand drifts to cover his mouth and nose looking very much akin to thinking...but he's not. In fact, no thoughts come to mind at all. He's feeling a lot, though. Heart beating, palpitating almost. It's sweet. This is too sweet that he doesn't know what to tell them. His face is hot against his palm.
"...I-Irivar has cufflinks?" Is all he can manage to stammer out with as much grace as his condition can afford. Hands resuming to touch whatever it can on the table, arranging each gift with precision that wasn't necessary. He follows it up with a quick, equally shaky, "I..I don't know what to say." Before covering his mouth again.