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[his eyes wince. that's not what he meant! only...it's hard to adjust to being given a surplus, when one's lived an entire life with mostly nothing of his own.

but he doesn't want to insult her, so he quickly sets to opening things up at her request, stopping midway when a thought strikes, holding a pack of markers in hand.]

This is sort of like...the stuff they have at the center...

Yeah, but I tried to get you some fancier stuff. Things that'll last.

[ For once, she feels somewhat relaxed, seeing him with her gift. She's not all the way to smiling yet- she wants to know he likes what he's got- but she sits on the arm of the couch, looking down at him. ]

Well- they better last with how much they cost. I'm sure you'll use them right.

Oh-- [costly? he holds the markers with a bit more care, as if they'll disintegrate if he grasps too tightly.]

Al-alright. What did you want me to make?

[it's the first conclusion he can come to with a gift like this -- the same way the knitting sticks were, back when they were given to him. it's never foremost about his enjoyment, but about what good he can generate for the giver in return for the gesture. it just makes sense in his head.]

Martin, come on.

[ If she sounds like she's scolding him, it's only because she thought she made her point clear. Martin should be allowed to express himself however he wants, without any obligation to anyone, as far as she's concerned. ]

You can make anything you want. I mean, what do you like to make?

[ducking his head at the little admonishment (which seems to be a common thing when talking with Cass especially), he shrugs, fiddling with the markers in his hand, picking at the opening in the box, but not quite committed to opening it up outright.]

I mean--I usually work on whatever I'm given over at the center. They put things out on the tables before you get there. [he pauses. that probably isn't a satisfying answer, is it?

something he likes?]

Um...I guess...when there's lots of little patterns, that's nice. Small spaces to fill in bit by bit.

Fuck. I should've got you a coloring book. One of those fancy ones...

[ Things she normally kind of scoffs at, but would probably be good for Martin. God, that's obvious, huh. ]

Well- you can draw something with patterns, then. Make something abstract.

[ Oh- and she forgot something. She stands back up. ] There's something small for you in the fridge, by the way.

[ It's a cheese platter. She was very clever, she thinks. This is how you win Christmas, right. ]

More? [he gapes at her, worried again. he can't keep up with all this generosity!

he gets up, setting the markers down, giving her another glance before heading into the kitchen. he opens up the fridge, looking about, up and down and--]

Oh!

[his head peeks up over the door to call back her way:] Is it all this cheese in here?

[ Okay, that does make her smile a little. He seems so excited. It...feels good, to make someone happier.

Wow, isn't that obvious. ]

Yeah. It's mostly the squares you like, but there's a few other kinds on there. That one with the white layer on it's brie- it's soft, you can spread it on things.

[ She follows him into the kitchen, scrutinizing the platter again. ] Maybe I should've gotten crackers to go with it or something.

It's already a lot, though. [and if he's going to eat all of this? more is only going to leave him feeling like that fat bag of flour left over from Andy's baking storm.

just less dusty, probably; he does shower more than once a week now, after all.

it's probably not smart to just stand there with the fridge door open, but Martin's not totally learned in fridge etiquette, so he squats down to peer closer at the plate and its offerings.]

Is this what you were talking about? When we bought the shoes and things. How there's more than just little and big kinds of cheese.

[he remembers. he goes out a lot more than he used to, but that outing was more memorable because of her company and the tangible things kept from it.]

[ At this point, Cassandra just goes ahead and picks up the platter, seeing Martin isn't going to do it himself. How's he supposed to get used to receiving gifts if he's not going to use them?

So she sets it down on the counter and takes off the top. ]

Yeah. So which one do you want to try first?

[ If he's not going to go for it himself, she'll make him do it. ]

Oh, I...I don't know, I... [he hesitates, looking everything over, biting his lip. then, looking at her:] What should I try first?

[ Of course he'd rely on her judgement. She wants to tell him he should pick whatever he wants, but she's already made that point a million times, hasn't she.

So she picks up one square of unknown origin and hands him one of the same kind. ]

Here, we'll figure out what the hell this is.

[ So she puts hers in her mouth, and ] Shit- [ It's the spicy kind. Whoops... ]

[that's a pretty dramatic reaction to cheese. Martin's eyebrows raise, concerned and surprised.]

Is it bad?

No, it's just- I didn't know it was like that. Damn it.

[ Honestly, Martin may be something close to family, but she's still a little embarrassed. She takes a deep breath. ] You try it. See what you think.

[huh, what? try it, after such a reaction?

Martin's not going to say no, but he is going to look pretty dubious before carefully nibbling off a corner of a piece.

he gives Cass a look. this isn't bad, so why...?]

It seems fine to me...?

[ God. She raises an eyebrow. ] Well, you've got stronger taste buds than I do, I guess. Fuck, I feel like a parody of myself...

[ Cassandra Igarashi is a stickler to the rules who can't have fun. Here that is, embodied.

She moves toward the cupboard. ] Do we have crackers? People like this stuff with crackers.

[the real truth: he nibbled a corner devoid of pepper.]

Uh, yes. Hang on--

[he goes to fish out the box of saltines Rex had procured, setting them on the table for Cass.] Here you go.

[listen. Rex has a delicate stomach. of course it's saltines.]

[ Just saltines? She raises her eyebrows. ]

I...shouldn't be surprised that this is all you've got. [ It's Rex and Martin. What was she expecting?

She pulls a knife out of the drawer and goes for the brie. ]

I think this is the kind you're supposed to put on things? Or- I'm not a fancy cheese and wine person, but I don't know how else you would eat it. [ She spreads some brie on a saltine and hands it to him. ] Here you go.

[he pinches the cracker between finger and thumb, holding it up closer to his eyes to peer at it and give a cautionary sniff.]

It looks like old butter.

[but it won't deter him. Cass would be unhappy if he didn't try! so, he just shoves the whole thing into his mouth, crunching slowly.]

Id...duddin' tathe lyg budder...

[ Pfft. The corners of her mouth twitch up a little. ]

Yeah, I can't imagine it does...

[ So she eats some with a cracker herself. As the taste isn't as jarring for her, she raises an eyebrow. ] I don't think it's bad at all. Pretty good, actually. You don't like it?

Umh. [he swallows, grimacing.] Not...I mean...the squares are better...[his head ducks a little.] Sorry.

Martin, you don't have to apologize for having opinions. Seriously, just- remember that next time you like or don't like something. Alright?

[ She's said it before, but she still wants to make sure he knows it. Even if it's about cheese. She puts brie on another cracker. ]

Go ahead and try whatever you want. I got it for you, after all.

[and so he does. carefully, methodically -- the Martin way of things. instead of allowing himself be overwhelmed with choice, he narrows his scope to whatever's closest, asking what it is before picking at it. the repetition doesn't bother him -- in fact, he prefers it. same with knitting. same with study. same with most anything: the more safe and cozy he can get into a pattern, the better things tend to go.

but just before he's gotten to the last offering, he hesitates, because his stomach makes a cautionary sound, rather loudly. he flushes, retracting his hand, mouth twitching into an embarrassed smile.]

Um, I...I think I'm full up for now...

[ Cassandra had just kept an eye on him as he kept going, noticing the patterns. That makes sense for Martin, doesn't it? That kind of meticulousness. He finds comfort in it, maybe.

She finds comfort in patterns, too, now that she thinks about it.

She hadn't eaten much watching him, so she's not feeling the same as he does. But it's getting late, isn't it. ]

Yeah, that's fine. We can put the rest away... [ She looks around the counter for the lid and finds it, securing the platter. ] You know you should probably get into bed soon.

R...right...

[he lingers at the table as she puts the cheeses away, scratching at his shoulder. it's easier to sleep with a full belly -- even an uncomfortably full one.

sheepishly, while her back's still to him:]

...Thank you. This was...it's nice. The present.

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