[ CHOCOLATE ] - Stefanelli's has partnered with the monastery to make the most of the supplies left in excess of their workshops earlier in the year by offering packages of sweet chocolates for attendees. The offerings appear generous... that is, until you open your box to find it only half full.
"Here you are. You do keep yourself difficult to track down, don't you?"
It's mostly a joke - if Raven had truly wanted, he could have found the precise door to knock on, but something told him that she wasn't the type to appreciate that.
"Here. I had...meant to repay the favor a little earlier, but...well, I suppose the timing worked out. I...made these for you."
startling at the voice, what bernadetta squeaks first is exactly what could be expected of her on any given day. “i didn't do it! and even if i did, you can't prove anything! i didn't know it was flammable!”
it always takes her an extra second or two to recover. that's all. most people get annoyed to have to afford her that, but not the man who had watched her count all the way up to seven. no—he had never clicked his tongue, rolled his eyes or accosted bernadetta one bit.
which was why she had tried to return the favor, with her silly chocolates, which he had hopefully found edible enough. she had not lingered long enough to ask—not even to see if he might have remembered her from that bunker at all. all her life, bernadetta von varley has only ever been just this: one of many. for the millions of delusions that her head could produce, overestimating her significance would never be one.
but he does remember. bernadetta's eyes flutter back open from where they had screwed shut, and as her gaze of recognition drops from him to the chocolates, so does her jaw.
“for me?” gloved hands stir from her sides, uncertain at first, fretting as if she were an impostor making off with someone else's kindness. they still accept this gift, and it is no small amount of emotion that makes her voice shrink. “oh...”
difficult to track down, what a way to describe her if there ever were one. she likes her privacy, she likes her peace. she has reminded herself in recent months that the other months before them should have been a sham. that she is meant to bide her time at the officers academy, seclude herself, and eventually fade into complete obscurity with almost no one left to care for her. it is her long-sown privilege as a recluse. if she ever vanished, nothing in most people's lives would truly change.
(but maybe sometimes kindness from a stranger will be the thing that saves you. it is something to hold onto whether you are one of many or one of a kind, because you are here.)
“...thank you,” bernadetta mumbles after a moment. she tries not to let the dam burst, to let all of the words in her heart come pouring out at once. there are so many, and he does not even know. “they look delicious. um, i didn't think you'd remember... i mean, i don't know if you remember! it's okay if you don't! i-it's just that, well, you helped calm me down a long time ago. before i gave you those chocolates. i never forgot it.”
so if anything, he'd be repaying her for repaying him. and bernadetta has a feeling he's not keeping score, but an extra token of appreciation still comes to mind.
a hand fumbles about her person until it retrieves one of the orchid stems she's been carrying. the undeniable greed of her green thumb had been whispering to hand them out sparingly, but he would be nothing if not worth this flower and more. bernadetta holds this out to him, and she offers something else she hasn't done first in a very long time.
“i-i'm bernadetta!” she blurts, trying not to squirm all too much. (she fails at this part, but they say it's the effort that counts.) “and i'd really like to know what to call you—i-if you want!”
