"What is this?" Slaine asked inquisitively looking at the neatly wrapped presents in front of him, with decorative tags with his name on them. Klancain shrugged, as if he had no idea at all, but that mischievous glimmer in his eye was plenty of evidence that he absolutely knew what it was. Slaine frowned.
It wasn't his birthday, it hadn't been any major holiday, and he certainly hadn't done anything spectacular to deserve gifts. It was very mysterious, and it almost felt like Klancain was playing a joke on him or something. Especially since the glistening packages were wrapped. Klancain couldn't wrap presents to save his life. He'd tried a few times when he'd been young, before bribing Slaine to do it. Even to this day, he hadn't taken the time to learn, he always paid someone else to do it. It didn't make any sense for Klancain to give him something wrapped out of the blue.
He kept scrutinizing the packages, until Klancain rolled his eyes in an overly exaggerated manner, and pushed one of the larger packages towards him. "Stop looking at me like they're going to explode and open them!"
Slaine gave him one more distrustful look, and then gingerly started unwrapping the large package. Once he'd unwrapped it, he sat there blinking at it for a long time. In front of him sat a small foldable easel. After a while of just looking at the thing blankly, Slaine looked up at Klancain. "Is this a joke of some sort?"
Klancain looked incredulous, but shook his head. "No, to the best of my knowledge, it isn't." Slaine looked at him for a while longer, not sure if he believed the statement, before looking back down at the foldable easel in confusion.
After a few more moments of uncomfortable silence, Klancain finally spoke. "It's father. He seems to have, to quote it "Discovered his latent artistic talents" and wants to spread the joy that is art." Slaine said nothing, just kept blinking over at him. Klancain faltered for a few moments, covering his mouth with his hand in embarrassment. "Mom says that one of his co-workers just had a baby, and that he's been showing around his sons finger paintings. She said he got a little sentimental, and went through baby stuff, only to find that he didn't have a single thing you'd ever made for him."
The confused look on Slaine's face got even more intense. "Because I didn't. He adopted me when I was 13. It sort of isn't the age for cute arts and crafts anymore."
Klancain looked to the side sheepishly. "Well, he intends to have that fixed." He looked back over at Slaine. "I think he wants you to paint him things. He called me and asked if this was something you'd like. I told him probably not, but obviously he didn't listen to me at all. Mom says he's been trying to call you for a few days to ask the same thing about me."
"But I lost my phone." Slaine supplied absentmindedly, looking down at the gift.
Klancain nodded. "He tried calling here a few times, but I always answered, so he quickly played it off as if he hadn't called to talk to you. When he does get through, please tell him something reasonable." The absurdity of the situation was still to baffling for him, and Slaine had yet to really comprehend the situation. So when Klancain clapped him on the shoulder, and told him to open the rest of them, he did just that.
A few minutes later, he had uncovered a set of expensive acrylic paints, a few tutorial books, a card that had obviously been picked by their mother (it said something about 'latent talents' and had flowy script, and screamed 'mom card') six canvases and an impressive spread of brushes to chose from. He almost hesitated to grab at the last gift, but what was the harm in it? He was already in the twilight zone, how could it get any worse?
When he finally unwrapped the last one, Klancain came up behind him, and Slaine could almost feel that he was excited. It was a rare thing; Klancain wasn't usually so obvious about his emotions. It was a large, hardback book, and instead of being about painting, or art, or anything like that, it was completely different.
"Blending your own signature Teas for Beginners." Slaine read aloud, looking at the book inquisitively. He looked over at Klancain and smiled at how happy he looked. "Did you suggest this?"
Klancain shrugged one shoulder, but obviously looked quite pleased with himself. "Father didn't like the idea much. He really has his heart set on getting you to paint him something, but I told him you'd probably like something like this better."
Slaine looked back down at the book, and flipped through a few of the pages. He was surprised, though, really he shouldn't have been. Klancain knew him pretty well. Well enough to know that he came home with different teas for every season, and that if there was ever any new teas at the super market, he always tried them out. Klancain had also been buying him very expensive teas that he wouldn't spend his own money on for a few years now every time a gift opportunity presented itself. Slaine hadn't ever really considered making his own tea, but now that the book was in front of him, he found the idea to be entirely appealing.
"Thanks Klancain. I'd like to try this out." Slaine stated, quite taken with the idea of blending flavors and spices and fruits together, just like he did in cooking.
He had already started to think of combinations that would work well together, or that would contrast well, when Klancain cleared his throat. Brought out of his musing, Slaine looked up at him. "Father really does want that picture though. You'd best get to it and just make him happy."
Slaine's lips formed a small oh, before his eyebrows furrowed, and he looked at the art supplies again. "I can't just send them tea?" He asked, knowing very well what the answer would be.
"Fraid not." Klancain shrugged. "Who knows, maybe you'll like it."
Slaine sighed in exasperation. "I doubt that."