"Maybe I do," Ishmael trilled, delighted at the easy opportunity to annoy him.
That mood didn't last, though, because at that moment Monty finally produced the thing he had picked up for him. Ishmael, if he were honest, wasn't expecting much - wasn't really expecting Monty to have done anything more than told a smooth white lie and hastily dug something out of his pockets that... would do, or whatnot.
Instead, Ishmael pulled back in wonder as Monty produced the ring, with its particular sun design and his particular reflection behind it. The smirk slipped off his face and he retracted his hand from holding onto Monty in order to offer it up to have the ring put on, leaving Monty to do the honours. Not that he needed the patent implications of that to be struck by this scene, because it was already enough that Monty had actually been thinking about him. Had not just thought of him, a quick moment in passing, but had spent actual time and effort considering a life that was not his. Ishmael was struck dumb by this, his throat suddenly dry in a way that had nothing to do with the bloodlust he knew so well.
Still, he swallowed, because it wouldn't do to get choked up about this, because this was supposed to be shallow and frivolous and fun - they were shallow and frivolous and fun, as people - and emotions had no business getting involved.
That said, Monty sounded almost nervous, asking for his opinion, and Ishmael finally mustered a small, sincere smile. "It's - perfect," he admitted, having searched in vain for another word - any other word - and finding none that fit. I love it, he might've said, if that hadn't been worse. "And - I do," he added, with a nod - meaning he missed the sun sometimes.
He'd kept his gaze trained on the ring for the last while, admiring it until he could clear his head, but at last he looked up at Monty again. "Can you do that?" He asked, almost shyly, wondering about the idea of enchanting the ring - rings - and being able to signal through them. Though he was rather fond of pretending he had, Ishmael had never learned much magic at all before he'd lost the ability altogether. So that was up to Monty. But it would be... useful.
And nice, too. A comfort.
That mood didn't last, though, because at that moment Monty finally produced the thing he had picked up for him. Ishmael, if he were honest, wasn't expecting much - wasn't really expecting Monty to have done anything more than told a smooth white lie and hastily dug something out of his pockets that... would do, or whatnot.
Instead, Ishmael pulled back in wonder as Monty produced the ring, with its particular sun design and his particular reflection behind it. The smirk slipped off his face and he retracted his hand from holding onto Monty in order to offer it up to have the ring put on, leaving Monty to do the honours. Not that he needed the patent implications of that to be struck by this scene, because it was already enough that Monty had actually been thinking about him. Had not just thought of him, a quick moment in passing, but had spent actual time and effort considering a life that was not his. Ishmael was struck dumb by this, his throat suddenly dry in a way that had nothing to do with the bloodlust he knew so well.
Still, he swallowed, because it wouldn't do to get choked up about this, because this was supposed to be shallow and frivolous and fun - they were shallow and frivolous and fun, as people - and emotions had no business getting involved.
That said, Monty sounded almost nervous, asking for his opinion, and Ishmael finally mustered a small, sincere smile. "It's - perfect," he admitted, having searched in vain for another word - any other word - and finding none that fit. I love it, he might've said, if that hadn't been worse. "And - I do," he added, with a nod - meaning he missed the sun sometimes.
He'd kept his gaze trained on the ring for the last while, admiring it until he could clear his head, but at last he looked up at Monty again. "Can you do that?" He asked, almost shyly, wondering about the idea of enchanting the ring - rings - and being able to signal through them. Though he was rather fond of pretending he had, Ishmael had never learned much magic at all before he'd lost the ability altogether. So that was up to Monty. But it would be... useful.
And nice, too. A comfort.
