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[garbagepilot]

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[garbagepilot]

[She does, and she looks around a little more this time only as much as it takes to find where he's got some glasses sitting out. It only makes sense to her to get straight to the point.]

He's started giving out going away presents. [She means Alfie, of course, because all of this came up because of him.] He gave me a necklace that was his mother's.

[It's around her neck now, just the chain visible because she's tucked the rest under her shirt.]

[bleak_midwinter]

[Tommy raises an eyebrow, locking the door behind him before moving over to the small table, the two chairs set in a corner.]

He did, did he?

[garbagepilot]

[Once she has the glasses poured she brings them over, hands his glass out to him.]

And then he started talking about the children he'll have, how he'll tell them fairy tales about me. [Her shoulders lift up, half a shrug and half a shiver, because she's still not sure how to feel about that.] Thinking back on it now I'm not convinced he wasn't drunk.

[bleak_midwinter]

He was almost certainly drunk. [He says, but he isn't sure about that at all: in his time, Alfie's a teetotaler, or at least claims to be. He's just odd, drink or not.]

All the same, Rey... [He trails off and shakes his head, accepting the whiskey.]

He's bloody sentimental, that one.

[garbagepilot]

[She doesn't think he was either, honestly, but the behavior is still so odd she needs to call it something.

And once she would have touched her glass Tommy's in a little toast, but she doesn't bother now. She just takes a sip, nods to what he says.]

He absolutely is. The last thing I ever expected was to be given something that belonged to his mother.