Michelangelo wasn't entirely sure what had brought him back to the series of chalets. He had ended up giving most of what he had gotten food and drink wise last time to Pendour, in part an effort to help her feel better and in part to make sure she actually got some more rest. (She ended up getting a lot more, but he digressed.) Maybe it was the general holiday cheer. While he could send people to get stuff for him, there was something to going himself and hearing the laughter of young children and elderly people alike. Michelangelo liked being around people who were happy; people energized him in a way he had trouble describing to most.

In a way, it made him feel more alive. And if he pretended, it could be something that made him feel more alive. The smile that he saw on the little girl's face as her mother bought her some popcorn could be his smile, too. The hug shared between the young couple could feel like a hug he was receiving or giving, too. The laughter, if he spotted the source, could just as easily been his own if he understood the source of entertainment.

The holidays were nice.

And people? People were nice.

Despite what he had gotten himself involved in, that general positive feeling about humanity hadn't quite left him. Michelangelo had been almost murdered as Abzu twice now, once by a very bitter lieutenant that was somehow convinced he was the source of their separation and suffering, and once by a captain he could now assume was Jadarite--the access via the ring to the database was very useful--who was very talented at seeming like she wasn't going to be a harm. Arguably, he should have felt more bitterness. He could see it in his fellows sometimes; some of them spoke as if they had seen the worst of humanity and it was destined to never improve, but they'd keep trying anyway. There were times where it seemed even Pendour saw the worst of it. He didn't know what horrible thing she had seen that Faustite had done, but...

Trails of bodies left a certain connotation and a certain accompanying image. He could get an idea, and he could understand what she was so afraid of.

Strangely enough, though, he was mostly afraid for others. It wasn't necessarily self-confidence that he would be fine no matter what, but a belief in putting others before himself. It permeated his life. It was why he did what he did with his money; beyond what he needed to sustain his admittedly lavish, comfortable life, he didn't make the effort to hang onto much more. It was why he had already volunteered house and home if needed.

And that was perhaps what had brought him back to the chalets, ultimately. He had gotten the set of drinks and snacks for himself and Pendour, sure, but after doing that, he had none left to give Luke. And while his accountant and now friend with benefits didn't strictly need anything, well...

As he bought another two bottles of the apple cider liqueur, he figured it was the thought that counted, anyway.

[ based on prompt 13 ]