Ichabod gave a tiny nod at Ben’s response to the drink offer, intending on getting him one, but Ben holding out the glint of silver caught Ichabod’s eye and distracted him from his task. He paused for a second, almost suspicious of what was being held out, but then he reached out to take the tiny book carefully.
“Wow, that’s… beautiful,” Ichabod said, examining the key ring. He’d expected the writing inside to just be lines, because on things similar to this he’d seen as a human, that was what he’d seen. But this was actual writing, and a smile broke out on Ichabod’s face as he recognised it.
“Dracula, cute,” Ichbaod said, glancing up at Ben, still smiling, but it faded a little as he met the blonde’s gaze. He’d never been good at accepting gifts, with Kerr he would have hugged him, same with his parents. A friend, he would have given a friendly punch on the arm, but Ben? Maybe it was stupid and he should get over it, but with Ben it always felt like there was an agenda and Ichabod was just too stupid to see it. He half felt like he should reject it, like he would be a hypocrite for accepting a present from someone he didn’t like and who didn’t like him. But he was trying, and the token of peace was a sign Ben was too.
“You didn’t have to do that. Thank you,” he said sincerely, with an appreciative nod, before he remembered his offer of a drink.
“I got a drink earlier, it’s probably cold now,” Ichabod said, moving quickly to the coffee table to scoop up his mug, then key ring dangling from his fingers. He poured Ben one too (preferring another mug to the more exquisite glassware Kerr had stocked the apartment with) and popped them both in the microwave.
“You can sit if you want,” Ichabod had said as he’d poured the drinks, looking down at the mugs but gesturing to the seating area in the open plan living area of the apartment.
As he waited for the blood to heat Ichabod scooped his keys up from the bowl by the door. He only had the apartment key and the key to the car Kerr had insisted he take, as the key card to the Oligarchy was in his wallet. The keys were attached to a tacky looking rubber keyring from the university he’d started at, and he carefully began to attach the book to the bundle, focusing on that rather than what his brother had decided on doing, where it was sit down or loiter by the kitchen waiting for the blood.
“Everything okay? With you? And Kerr?” he asked eventually, glancing up at Ben once the book was in place.