Material goods, perhaps? Is there anything he lacks? Does he have any favorite foods? Failing that, any allergies? Are you aware of his clothing sizes?
I am not as familiar with him as I am with you. I did not at all intend to gift him anything in particular.
[...]
It seems I was signed up for this year's "Secret Santa". Somebody's idea of a joke, I imagine. I would have ignored the message entirely if I had been paired with an unfamiliar name.
But ... he was kind to me last year, asking nothing in return. I can at least attempt to repay that favor now.
Have you been to that market in Bavan? I usually wouldn't go somewhere so [...] noisy, but I was intrigued.
[Doppio came home once with his wings coated in flakes of tinsel. Diavolo's only choice was to personally investigate how such a disaster occurred.]
The goods they sell there are absolutely hideous.
I have seen the inside of your house. I can only assume your husband would enjoy many of the things to be found there. Unless you are the one who handles the decor...?
Busy. Far too many people, and they are far too ... eager, in their dealings. I did not bring much money with me to buy their wares; they assured me it was not a problem. The vendor I spoke to most, it seemed, was enraptured by my wings, and was willing to make a trade. A slightly-less-garish sweater than most in exchange for a fistful of feathers, plucked straight from the source.
I, of course, refused. I know my value. I have sold feathers before, and I have gotten a thousand times more in return than a mere sweater.
It does sound suspect, doesn't it? Truth be told, now that I think about it, I had some concerns about the goods there. They were selling sweaters allegedly imbued with "protective magic" ... I can't help but wonder if there's something malicious afoot.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
<sleepless>
Fiddleford McGucket.
[This level of specificity is not necessary. He is stalling.]
Is there anything he desires?
<marco>
In general or
<sleepless>
<marco>
I can get you his measurements, sure.
His favorite foods aren't easy to come by here, I'm afraid. He's usually the one making them.
<sleepless>
I am not as familiar with him as I am with you. I did not at all intend to gift him anything in particular.
[...]
It seems I was signed up for this year's "Secret Santa". Somebody's idea of a joke, I imagine. I would have ignored the message entirely if I had been paired with an unfamiliar name.
But ... he was kind to me last year, asking nothing in return. I can at least attempt to repay that favor now.
<marco>
I'm sure, in the worst case scenario, he'll just assume I'M the one who needs his measurements.
And I see. Hawkeye can be very... liberal with signups, yes.
He means well, though.
So I'm glad you'll be participating.
:)
<sleepless>
[Doppio came home once with his wings coated in flakes of tinsel. Diavolo's only choice was to personally investigate how such a disaster occurred.]
The goods they sell there are absolutely hideous.
I have seen the inside of your house. I can only assume your husband would enjoy many of the things to be found there. Unless you are the one who handles the decor...?
<marco>
No. I haven't.
Most of the decor is Fiddleford's, yes.
I've never had much of an eye for that type of thing.
[......
Okay, no, he HAS to ask.]
How is that market?
<sleepless>
I, of course, refused. I know my value. I have sold feathers before, and I have gotten a thousand times more in return than a mere sweater.
<marco> cw: paranoia
[They're--]
Compelling monsters to come to them and gathering their parts??
<sleepless>
<marco>
Right?
<sleepless>
I take it that buying a gift for your husband there may be a poor idea.
<marco>
Have you checked the mall yet, by any chance?