"Think of it like an incredibly scaled down version of our communicators. Inside that, there's information that says how much money you have. You tap it to the bigger communicator that the stores will have, and that acts as you giving permission to take the dollar amount out of your account. It messages your bank to tell it now you have a little less money, and the store has more."
Explains Quentin,
"Keep it out, we can use it to pay here, I'll show you the system. The Admiral gives the wardens cards with a lot on them, more than they could realistically ever spend."
"Great." Says Quentin, and then sits up straight; the waitress is setting the cocoa down between them. He wraps his hands around his mug for warmth. "I need a couple of things for some other people, while we're at it."
"...neither. But I meant - we didn't celebrate Christmas like people do
here. I never bought gifts." He sips his cocoa: it's very good, and not
sweet enough to make him sick. "I think she's from around your time?"
"Then let me tell you a little about the typical norms of dating. She might be completely different, especially if you've got stuff in common- but it wouldn't be a bad idea for you to have some general context, even just to contrast against her perspective and know a little better how she's different from most people."
But at least he waits to make sure Credence agrees with this plan.
"So in my day and age, it's still more normal for a man to ask a woman out- but that's changing. A girl who approaches you might be- modern thinking in a pleasant way, forward in a way you'd really admire."
He says, as he thinks through what he might need to know.
"If we lived somewhere normal, the first thing you'd do would be to get up the courage to ask for her phone number. That gives you a way to get in touch with her. Sometimes it can be misinterpreted as wanting to just be friends, especially if you're coworkers or have some kind of thing you need to collaborate on. But usually it's enough to at least begin the process of checking that there's a mutual interest there. You'd smile. Maybe pay a compliment. Or even propose a plan- 'we can get a cup of coffee' or 'I'd love to take you out to dinner.' All this is kind of useless on the barge."
"Maybe ask her first? 'I'd like to cook you dinner some time, just us.' Or 'cook dinner together,' if she's good at it too. Now- in a modern day relationship, there would be more expectations- but I want you to know first and foremost, then only thing that matters is that neither of you does anything you don't want to do and feel uncomfortable with. Most people my age in my time do have sex outside of marriage, so there's a chance the conversation will come up-"
"Oh - oh." Yes, he knows about cohabitation and premarital sex and
homosexuality and all that business; he even knows what 'hooking up' is. He
just hasn't really considered all those as concepts existing in the same
universe as himself.
"I don't think she had any upbringing like that," he ventures, and then,
the thought having really just occurred to him: "But I think that might be
- good? We can decide what's...best, for us."
"Okay. If the conversation ever comes on the table, it's important that you research birth control and health before you take any next steps together. I'm here for that if you need, or you could also get to the infirmary- they hand out free supplies."
Says Quentin, perfectly matter of factly, as he sips his cocoa.
"Don't rush. Don't feel pressure to move faster than you want to. The best advice I can give you is that you should learn to talk about it to each other before you do anything, so that you can approach it together- but it's perfectly okay if that's years from now, or some day but not with this girl, or even never."
"Yes," Credence says, looking just a smidge deer in-headlights; if he had
better circulation he'd be turning redder still. "Th-thank you, Quentin. Do
you, erm - do they teach this at school in the future?"
They may teach it in his present, for all he knows, but it feels unlikely.
"They teach the basic of sexual health and safety in some parts of the country. No school system that I know of teaches respect, communication and consent- but they're the kind of things that get talked about now, peer to peer."
Swirling his cocoa a little, so the residue on the bottom of the cup kicks up.
"Like how to be kind to one another in bed. And there are magazines and books for how to be good in bed. Sex, more now than in your time, is about pleasure, and there's a new emphasis on pleasing your female partner. Historically women have gotten kind of short shrift in terms of enjoyment of the marriage bed, and that's changing."
There's a reason that Credence's sisters were named Modesty and Chastity.
"I d-don't think she and I are going to have to worry about any of that, sir," he admits, so anxious that he slips up on Quentin's name, defaulting to the way he speaks to authority - which Quentin absolutely is right now.
He is nervous, but he's not really hearing himself speak right now,
either. He looks down at his hands, wondering if there's some pre-Obscurial
crackling around his fingertips.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
magician_king) wrote2020-01-12 01:19 pm
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Credence nods.
"But - we've done a few things like that," he says, fidgeting. "I wanted to give her something..."
He knows how childish he sounds.
"Special."
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He's sure there'll be millions of little gift shops.
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"Okay. Alec gave me..."
He produces a credit card.
"He - says it's money?"
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Explains Quentin,
"Keep it out, we can use it to pay here, I'll show you the system. The Admiral gives the wardens cards with a lot on them, more than they could realistically ever spend."
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Credence nods.
"So...the money is a gift from the Admiral, I won't need to...return it?"
So maybe he could get himself some clothes, too.
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He agrees, obviously thinking along the same lines.
"Let's pick up what you need- if you've got some time and don't mind company?"
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"No - no, not at all. That's - that'd be....helpful. I don't want to buy the wrong thing. Thank you."
And he obviously does not really have plans with anyone else. With the possible exception of spending some time with, well. A girl.
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Credence does the same with his own mug, offering their waitress a nervous mumble of thanks.
"I - I guess I do too. Back home i didn't - we never - "
He chews his lip.
"But I want to."
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He wonders, and then decides he needs to know;
"It'd help me to know what year she's from?"
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Credence goes pink. Again.
"...neither. But I meant - we didn't celebrate Christmas like people do here. I never bought gifts." He sips his cocoa: it's very good, and not sweet enough to make him sick. "I think she's from around your time?"
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But at least he waits to make sure Credence agrees with this plan.
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Credence gives a slow, careful nod.
"I - yes, you're right. That sounds like a good idea."
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He says, as he thinks through what he might need to know.
"If we lived somewhere normal, the first thing you'd do would be to get up the courage to ask for her phone number. That gives you a way to get in touch with her. Sometimes it can be misinterpreted as wanting to just be friends, especially if you're coworkers or have some kind of thing you need to collaborate on. But usually it's enough to at least begin the process of checking that there's a mutual interest there. You'd smile. Maybe pay a compliment. Or even propose a plan- 'we can get a cup of coffee' or 'I'd love to take you out to dinner.' All this is kind of useless on the barge."
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He has to smile? Oof.
"Not - not the last part. We have coffee. And I work in the kitchen, I could - make something just for us."
He thinks he'd be allowed.
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He says;
"Maybe ask her first? 'I'd like to cook you dinner some time, just us.' Or 'cook dinner together,' if she's good at it too. Now- in a modern day relationship, there would be more expectations- but I want you to know first and foremost, then only thing that matters is that neither of you does anything you don't want to do and feel uncomfortable with. Most people my age in my time do have sex outside of marriage, so there's a chance the conversation will come up-"
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"Oh - oh." Yes, he knows about cohabitation and premarital sex and homosexuality and all that business; he even knows what 'hooking up' is. He just hasn't really considered all those as concepts existing in the same universe as himself.
"I don't think she had any upbringing like that," he ventures, and then, the thought having really just occurred to him: "But I think that might be - good? We can decide what's...best, for us."
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Says Quentin, perfectly matter of factly, as he sips his cocoa.
"Don't rush. Don't feel pressure to move faster than you want to. The best advice I can give you is that you should learn to talk about it to each other before you do anything, so that you can approach it together- but it's perfectly okay if that's years from now, or some day but not with this girl, or even never."
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"Yes," Credence says, looking just a smidge deer in-headlights; if he had better circulation he'd be turning redder still. "Th-thank you, Quentin. Do you, erm - do they teach this at school in the future?"
They may teach it in his present, for all he knows, but it feels unlikely.
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Swirling his cocoa a little, so the residue on the bottom of the cup kicks up.
"Like how to be kind to one another in bed. And there are magazines and books for how to be good in bed. Sex, more now than in your time, is about pleasure, and there's a new emphasis on pleasing your female partner. Historically women have gotten kind of short shrift in terms of enjoyment of the marriage bed, and that's changing."
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"I d-don't think she and I are going to have to worry about any of that, sir," he admits, so anxious that he slips up on Quentin's name, defaulting to the way he speaks to authority - which Quentin absolutely is right now.
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Says Quentin, keeping his tone completely nonjudgemental, mildly interested as he invites Credence to think about the intensity of his reaction.
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"What - what did I do?"
He is nervous, but he's not really hearing himself speak right now, either. He looks down at his hands, wondering if there's some pre-Obscurial crackling around his fingertips.
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He promises, with an shrug.
"What are you feeling?"
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