[On the morning of the 15th, not long after dawn but before he begins his usual training at 5 a.m., Henry pays a visit to Kate's work desk. He doesn't expect to find her there at this hour. He's simply there to leave a small parcel where she is bound to find it, along with a short note.
The note reads: Happy Birthday, Kate. The distinctly medieval handwriting quite obviously belongs to Henry.
The package contains two items: a three-fingered archer's glove of dark leather lined with linen, and a slim belt of leather dyed red made for wearing a quiver at the waist. The materials and buckles are of extremely fine quality and make. It's clear that they're not new but re-purposed, altered by Henry himself into new pieces meant to fit her. Henry believes in personal gifts with real meaning — both are made from remnants he kept of his original armour that was damaged beyond wearing in the incident that lead to his and Kate's friendship.
Knowing that Kate won't appreciate a fuss being made, he limits the celebration to just this single quiet gesture.]
( It's the kind of morning where a five am run doesn't feel that important, or where she feels like it's okay to get into the clinic at eight instead of six. A relaxing one, where the knowledge that it's probably her birthday by now doesn't even enter her mind until she gets in and sees the package on the table.
She blinks at the note, and again at the gifts, running fingers over material gently as she turns them over in her hands and the source of the material comes to mind, vague as the memories of Henry's original armour are by now.
...Right. )
Drinks tonight?
( There's the slightest of smiles on her face as she sends that message. )
( Let's get something straight right now, Hotspur: She said drinking. Not celebrating. Maybe she just wants to get shitfaced and forget that she's halfway through her thirties, or that her last two birthdays have involved a multidimensional hellcity.
But whatever the case, there's booze involved, so she texts him a time to meet at the Speakeasy, and is there just on time as well - running in from the shore, halfway through pulling her hair out of its bun and grimacing as the bobble goes flying across the street.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action;
The note reads: Happy Birthday, Kate. The distinctly medieval handwriting quite obviously belongs to Henry.
The package contains two items: a three-fingered archer's glove of dark leather lined with linen, and a slim belt of leather dyed red made for wearing a quiver at the waist. The materials and buckles are of extremely fine quality and make. It's clear that they're not new but re-purposed, altered by Henry himself into new pieces meant to fit her. Henry believes in personal gifts with real meaning — both are made from remnants he kept of his original armour that was damaged beyond wearing in the incident that lead to his and Kate's friendship.
Knowing that Kate won't appreciate a fuss being made, he limits the celebration to just this single quiet gesture.]
action → text;
She blinks at the note, and again at the gifts, running fingers over material gently as she turns them over in her hands and the source of the material comes to mind, vague as the memories of Henry's original armour are by now.
...Right. )
Drinks tonight?
( There's the slightest of smiles on her face as she sends that message. )
no subject
Certainly.
[So she wants to celebrate after all. Of course he is happy to.]
no subject
But whatever the case, there's booze involved, so she texts him a time to meet at the Speakeasy, and is there just on time as well - running in from the shore, halfway through pulling her hair out of its bun and grimacing as the bobble goes flying across the street.
Well, fuck. )
Better not ask how old I am.