A knock came on Jonathan’s door.
He ignored it.
The door swung open anyway.
Calvin strode inside and handed Jonathan a mug of steaming chocolate. “Happy Christmas.”
“Not you, too,” Jonathan muttered.
“The others are about to play a game of—”
“No.”
“Should I have brought Scotch whisky instead of chocolate?”
Jonathan sniffed the warm contents of the mug. It smelled delicious, damn it. Hot and sweet. The steam banished the chill from the air.
“I’ll suffer through,” he muttered.
Calvin eased onto the dressing-stool uninvited. “I thought you hated being stuck inside a room.”
“I do. There’s no hack to be had or I’d be gone.” Jonathan glared at him. “I don’t know how you can prefer to lock yourself in your house for months on end, sewing clothes.”
“I don’t know how you can prefer not tohavea house,” Calvin countered, unruffled.
“What’s the point?” Jonathan crossed one boot over the other. “A house doesn’t make a home.”
“Are you an expert on the subject?” Calvin’s brows rose. “Tell me, what makes a home?”
Jonathan feigned deep interest in his chocolate rather than respond.
Very well, he wasn’t feigning. This was excellent chocolate.
“Home isn’t necessarily a building,” Calvin said, as though Jonathan were at all interested in conversing with him. “It can be a person. Home isn’t what holds you back. It’s the thing you hate to leave.”
“Iliketo travel.” Perhapslikewasn’t the right word. He was compelled to travel. It was a race, from the past to the future. “The world is big. I don’t want to miss anything.”
“Maybe all you’re missing,” Calvin said, “is slowing down.”
Jonathan did his best to incinerate him with the force of his glare.
It might have worked better if he wasn’t peeking out over a mug of hot chocolate.
Calvin was unperturbed. He narrowed his eyes in consideration. “I would think being constantly on the move means you can never get close to anyone.”
“I wishyouwere far away,” Jonathan muttered.
“You can never enjoy your achievements because you’re always on the hunt for the next one,” Calvin continued. “You never rest, or take a moment for introspection.”
“I hate being alone with my thoughts,” Jonathan said. “That’s why I tell people to ask me anything. I’d rather think about their thoughts than mine.”
“I love being alone,” Calvin said.
Jonathan tilted his head. That was a strange argument.
“But I’ll like having a wife even better,” Calvin finished. He was recently betrothed.
“Humph.” Jonathan snorted. He wasn’t jealous.
