Welcome to Gaia! ::

He snatched the letter up and tapped it against his thigh, trying to think. <******** okay maybe-- The tapping topped as he gazed at the canvas. --nope. But he snickered anyway as he pushed his glasses up and replied rather self-indulgently, "It does have a sort of charismatic quality to it, doesn't it?" All about Jack. A good running gag.

"s**t, anything else? Did you get Chinabreath's like ********' fang to match?" he joked, unable to look at the scale right then. "And where's that pen?"

"No I know, I just—" He didn't know, he had been too distracted thinking about revising his gift. Forced to look at the canvas in detail and take in just how she had come come across it, Jack gave a small laugh. He didn't know what the appropriate reaction was. There was a partial gene canvas in his favorite color and a scale from the dragon that nearly killed him among the presents from the girl who had saved his life when she probably shouldn't have. He laughed in the way he often did at funerals, not because he thought it funny but out of confusion and a lack of direction for what to feel. It couldn't be gratitude—he was already deep in debt before she piled on everything else.

Leaving the letter alone for a moment, Jack lightly ran his fingers along the edge of the canvas as he examined it further. "God damn it, Chel..." There wasn't as much spite to his tone as there could have been. He sighed and ran some fingers through his hair and behind his ear. "You just had to put a lot of effort into this. Why?"

"There's that word again, fun." The same sweeping motion to push his hair back turned into a self conscious neck rub. His eyes zeroed in on the movement for the letter, and for a moment Jack tensed as if ready to take it away. But revising it now would mean opening it before her, which was completely out of bounds in his head as he didn't have a replacement envelope, and he couldn't simply have her open am already opened letter that was just a social faux las, and it was bad enough he needed to scratch out just one thing on the page because striking and replacing was completely tacky regardless of how official he made everything else, and god damn it.

Chel took her gift without resistance.

Inside was a letter with faint gold filigree. Save for the names and signature, everything was typed in large, hopefully easy to read letters:

I, D. Jack Hawthorn, henceforth referred to as Mr. Hawthorn, on this the 25th of December in the year 2014, do hereby grant Chelsea A. Craft, henceforth referred to as Ms. Craft, the use of 1 (one) IOU. Ms. Craft's IOU may be used to call in any favor of Mr. Hawthorn of her choosing so long as it does not violate the following conditions:

• Mr. Hawthorn's life cannot be endangered by undertaking the request.
  
• The IOU does not comprise of several activities; only one will be allowed complete freedom.
  
• The full cost of the IOU does not exceed $1000.
  
• Mr. Hawthorn's property cannot be damaged.

I have read the terms of this binding contract and willfully submit myself to it.
J.H.

Jack glanced at her, sighed, and took the letter. "Thought that would...Sorry. I'll read it." And he did reread it exactly, but he changed one thing: one IOU became three.

Afterwards he offered it back to Chel with an unreadable expression. "I can rewrite it if you want."

"No take backs," he promised, wondering if the laughter was a good sign or a bad one. "It's signed and everything. Later I'll actually buy you something, but for now...I guess that's a good start." He clasped his hands in his lap to stifle any more self-conscious motions. "So. Yeah. Make good use of them."

Cue awkward silence.

He scoffed, and a muscle in his jaw flexed. "God, please don't...The IOUs can also be used for questions too I guess, if you, I dunno, really want an answer."

Owain was softly chuckling at his inarticulation.

"Stuff," Jack replied, bristling at the sound in his head. "Mugs, post it notes, books, a grinch figurine. What'd you get?"

"You did, remember? The ugly ones you threw at me?" The ones sitting in his closet with the rest of his shoe collection anyway.

Thank God there was something to mock; feeling uncomfortable was, well, not a common feeling at all for him, not to this degree. Jack barked a loud laugh at the sight of the pillow boyfriend. "******** spot on, isn't it?" he said, sniggering. "God, I forgot those existed...What are you going to do with it? Wait, I got it," he added with a snap. "Pass it to Axten, I bet he's a desperate enough virgin."