He is wholly guilty of giving the woman and her assistants some warning—nothing explicit, but the shards in their hands had served as a good calling card, a reminder of what they were. But she was the sort to whom coin was coin—and he had done his best to be on best behavior for her.
Thranduil stands, and pulls a twist of waxed paper from his pocket, tearing it open. He offers the light yellow slice to the Outsider. “Candied ginger root,” he explains, neatly paying no mind to the fact that he is, in certain lights, bribing him with candy to keep still for a few minutes more.
(The Outsider deserves the full breadth of the experiences he never had as a child.)
“Are your nightclothes not soft enough?” He tucks the scrap of paper back inside his pockets. He suspects it will be difficult to convict the Outsider of the need—build new habits, as it were. It’s the most visceral way to show he cares. Someone loves you, it says. Someone wants you to be dressed for the weather. Someone wants you to look cared for.
no subject
Thranduil stands, and pulls a twist of waxed paper from his pocket, tearing it open. He offers the light yellow slice to the Outsider. “Candied ginger root,” he explains, neatly paying no mind to the fact that he is, in certain lights, bribing him with candy to keep still for a few minutes more.
(The Outsider deserves the full breadth of the experiences he never had as a child.)
“Are your nightclothes not soft enough?” He tucks the scrap of paper back inside his pockets. He suspects it will be difficult to convict the Outsider of the need—build new habits, as it were. It’s the most visceral way to show he cares. Someone loves you, it says. Someone wants you to be dressed for the weather. Someone wants you to look cared for.
If it's blatant, he doesn't mind.