(no subject)

[sunburned]

If it doubt, he draws. It's always been the way. He first learned as a Midshipman, hanging around the covert, drawing his fllows first and then, when he got up the nerve, the dragons themselves. He must have been a sight, growing out of his coats every third day, sitting huddled into corners with a sketchpad balanced across his skinny knees. He's got passing talent as an artist (even if nobody can read the labels but him). He wishes he had his own folio, the sketches of Temeraire and Iskierka, Emily Roland and the odd one of William Laurence in a moment of relaxation.

But new pages will do, he supposes. In a pinch.

It's more awkward with only one hand, but he manages to get the pad wedged in his lap, solid enough that the lines don't wobble. He's sitting in the shade, watching Toothless bask in the sun. He'll talk to Hiccup and make notes later but, for now, he draws.

Comments

[sunburned]

"I was born in 1780 in Newcastle," he says, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But I did most of my growing in Loch Lagan, on and off dragons. Spent time on Gibraltar, too. Made my Spanish passable."

[notsocommon]

"Passable Spanish is always a welcome gift," Helen said, laughing. "I speak...more languages than I can really count at the moment but I've been alive for a very long time. It's the year 2012 on the island but when I first came here, I arrived from 2008. I was well over a hundred."

[sunburned]

"Temeraire puts us all to shame," he says. "He picks a new language up as soon as think about it."

He pauses, working it out; mathematics was never his strong suit. "So I am two hundred and thirty one years old?"

He blinks.

"I am ageing rather well, I think." He gives her a crooked smile.

[notsocommon]

"Oh, incredibly well. Very well preserved," Helen said, laughing. "You're putting me to shame, that's for certain. It's nice, though, to have someone who remembers the old ways and how life used to be. I'm very pleased."

[sunburned]

The crooked smile blossoms into a broad grin and he pushes unruly hair back from his forehead..

"Everything's so different," he says. "I don't know how I'm ever to get up to speed."

[notsocommon]

"You'll pick it up. You're lucky in that the island's populated by mostly helpful people," Helen said, grinning a bit, "And I count myself among those number. You seem clever. I can't imagine it will take long once the shock of this place wears off."

[sunburned]

"Clever?" Granby shakes his head, still grinning. "Not something I've ever been accused of before. No, Ma'am. What I am, right at the root, is adaptable. I've had to be - it really has been years and years of one thing after another. I'm an Aviator, Helen. We find a way."