When it comes to the form, he knows he’s done badly before she even sees it.
Cole really has tried, painstakingly practicing his writing until it almost looks right, even through the frustration of trying to sit and be focused in a way that feels stifling, of trying to keep his focus on the paper and the lines instead of to people passing, or the morning air, or a squirrel scurrying by. He wants this, has desperately longed to chase it since he understood enough about the poster in front of him to go from you can do that to i have to learn.
It still isn’t good. He’s given up on “age” entirely and hopes she won’t ask, and the writing isn’t anything like Josephine’s pretty curling lines or Solas’s plain, easy letters. He’s spelled things wrong, and there are parts he doesn’t know how to write down. So he is already preparing himself, when he hands his paper over, making plans to stick to the shadows and watch and try to learn that way.
And then - she says yes. She has doubts and worries and she knows his writing is bad, but Athena says yes. And she’ll teach him.
The feeling is - quick and bursting, in his chest, and he isn’t sure where it’s come from (because it isn’t her happiness, or anyone else’s around) but tracing it isn’t important right now. The want comes back in a roaring wave and it trips his words as he tries to find the right ones.
“I know it isn’t - good. I know I need to learn things that I should know already, but I’ll listen and practice if you tell me things. I need to -
“I didn’t know that you could teach helping. I just knew I was trying, and not very good at it, and people told me things that sometimes helped and sometimes didn’t. But they - where you come from, they gave it a name, and they taught you, like they teach cooking or writing or, or healing herbs.
“So... I promise I’ll try my hardest. I want to learn it too.”
