Doubt the few books in the common area can tell me much, but I might be able to divine what it has to do with depictions of a fat old man in red I've seen scattered about.
[Clayton doesn't know too much about Geralt, but he does remember that he was making black powder one time, which means that he probably appreciates a nice gun. He's not super keen on trying to request an actual gun, both because it feels weird to get something like that for someone he barely knows as a holiday gift, and also because he's not sure Viveca and Degar would let him get away with it, so this one is a Nerf model (rather, it's Clayton's universe-adjacent version of Nerf guns). A baggie of foam bullets is included, taped to the sheer wrapping around the toy rifle, along with a note written in Clayton's mostly illegible chicken-scratch, all leaned up next to the door to Geralt's room.]
Hope this saves you some time in the laboratory. --Clayton
[ The lab is not exactly the first place she would have looked for him — she would have been drawn toward the sunlight room, a location where she's often found him kneeling in meditation and near-impossible to wake until she's close enough for him to sense her somehow. Here, though, the smell should have been her first clue that he's within; she can smell the sulfur from down the corridor as she makes her way through the station and past several other rooms until she finally enters the lab proper.
It isn't necessarily a desire to not immediately announce her presence that draws her to stand just within the doorway, loosely folding her arms over her chest as she silently observes him — she mostly just wants to look at him first, reflecting on her prior conversation with Wei Wuxian even as she idly considers how long it'll take him to notice her standing there.
Perhaps he knew it was her even before she walked in; she's never really inquired about the intricacies of witcher senses, but somehow she has the distinct feeling that even what he possesses is more highly attuned to her, that he would recognize her presence even if he did not have the ability to perceive her scent, or her heartbeat. ]
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text; un: yennefer
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I was going to ask you the same thing since you've been here longer.
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Given the sunlight room seems to be reflecting winter, I'd imagine it's similar to Yule.
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Doubt the few books in the common area can tell me much, but I might be able to divine what it has to do with depictions of a fat old man in red I've seen scattered about.
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[ and then the moment of brief, panicking realization: are they supposed to get each other something??? ]
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Why would I be expecting something when I knew nothing of this celebration until a day ago?
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No reason.
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The old man in red could be a demon for all we know.
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[ present ]
Hope this saves you some time in the laboratory.
--Clayton
pre-mission text; un: yennefer
[ on the station, obviously. ]
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Mixing a few things before the next
job [ Or whatever ]
Need something?
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I wanted to talk.
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[ Oh shit what did he do? ]
Not like this I'm guessing
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Not preferably, no. Should I come to you? I'm in the room.
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Don't want to have your room spelling like sulfur so here would be best.
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It isn't necessarily a desire to not immediately announce her presence that draws her to stand just within the doorway, loosely folding her arms over her chest as she silently observes him — she mostly just wants to look at him first, reflecting on her prior conversation with Wei Wuxian even as she idly considers how long it'll take him to notice her standing there.
Perhaps he knew it was her even before she walked in; she's never really inquired about the intricacies of witcher senses, but somehow she has the distinct feeling that even what he possesses is more highly attuned to her, that he would recognize her presence even if he did not have the ability to perceive her scent, or her heartbeat. ]
text; un: yennefer
I'll take care of securing invitations.