Work Text:
Tony was never good at introducing or subtly deviating a conversation towards sentimentalities. Lyra was more of the speech savvy and they both knew it, even if Lyra could muster as much subtlety as a brick to the face — a paradox of smooth talk and strong emotions. Tony balanced his awkward talk with assertiveness, which is all the explanation needed of why he dropped a chain of fantasy gold on Lyra’s open book instead of clearing his throat and starting with: I got you this. No, that came after.
“What’s this?” Lyra barely managed to catch the chain before it slid down the angle she held the book in and to her lap.
Pantalaimon raised his head from her wrist when she moved it, he looked too. Lyra’s dæmon was being used to prop the book — a textbook specifically, there were notes on the margins in Lyra’s squiggly and cramped handwriting and sentences underlined with blue.
Tony, with Lyuba looking from on top the boat roof since Lyra had made the nooks between the cargo her (in Tony’s words) utterly uncomfortable reading space, cleared his throat and said: “I got you s’mthing.”
Four years of being just friends and two months of dating made Lyra an expert on how Tony flirted and showed affection. It was on record he was a terrible flirt, though Lyra wasn’t much better and it was something Pantalaimon would never let her lie about. So, instead, he resorted to little trinkets and knickknacks Lyra assorted around her room or person. A complement to her magpie tendencies of finding pretty shiny things in those stores that sold about everything and getting them just because. Tony adapted to those tendencies and increased her collection with gifts.
Lyra lifted the chain. “A necklace!” She could see the clasp now. “Looks like your ma’s.”
“That’s cause it is like hers.” Tony climbed to sit on the cargo, next to where Lyra was nestled using an oil gallon as pillow. “You’d said you liked it. Found a chain and put the clasps, oh! And this.”
He took something else from the pocket of his jacket: a snowflake, or well, a snowflake charm made of hard plastic and painted white and light blue.
The cramped space made it a little hard, but Lyra sat up as best as she could. She cupped her hand and let Tony drop the snowflake on it. Hooking it to one of the chain links near the middle, she put it around her neck and asked him to clasp it. Lyra gathered all of her hair to make it easier and the necklace was in place.
“With this—” said Tony as Lyra dropped her hair and made sure the clasp was right on the back of her neck. “— and the ring you are full gyptian, now.”