Warning/Pairing: None. Howard-centric.
December 8th
In Those Eyes...
He wondered if he was getting too old for this. His mind might be spry but his joints were starting to betray him in the mornings. A creak here, a groan there. He wasn't over the hill yet, but he was no spring chicken either.
But then maybe it was just the latest member to his crew that was making him feel his age. He looked at the boy perched up on the bow of his ship and shook his head.
What have we done to our children?
When the boy introduced himself Howard had silently wondered where he'd really come from. He had a sharp mind and easy grin but his eyes . . . he had eyes that said, 'I've seen the world and it ain't no bed of roses.' Hard eyes.
Eyes of the old.
It was warm here. Somewhere in the world, snowflakes were falling, maybe eggnog was being made and people were gathering to sing carols.
There were no carols on this ship. The clangs of machinery and the thrum of the engine were the sounds that greeted each day, every one much like the next. His men didn't mind, they liked the heat and their suntans and the bikini clad women.
He was rather fond of the shirts himself.
"Hey kid."
The boy looked up from where he sat and cocked his head in question. Howard stared out at the blue expanse before them, and leaned against the rail. "You ever see snow?"
The boy shook his head, "First time on Earth old man."
Howard nodded. "If you get the chance, you should see it. It's a sight to behold."
Squinting in the sunlight, the boy studied Howard for a moment and then shrugged one shoulder carelessly. "Sure. I'll keep that in mind."
The tone decided it. Reaching into his pocket, Howard pulled out a small package. There hadn't been any real wrapping paper so the best he'd managed was last months' pin-up. Miss November did as good of a job as any.
"Here."
He tossed the package and the boy caught it, hand extending almost lazily to snatch it out of the air.
Puzzled, he pulled off the paper, smirking at the picture before offering it back. Howard shook his head and the boy gave him a steady look before folding it carefully and putting it in his pocket.
Then he stared down wordlessly at the pair of sunglasses clutched in his hand.
"Consider it a Christmas present." And then Howard walked away. He hoped someday the boy did get to see snow.
A little wonder . . . might soften those eyes.