Open The Frost Fair of 1765

[Callisto Bluemoon]

Preparing for an event such as todays was not only expensive but unpredictable. Callisto, freshly-minted as he was, was however keen to impress with his first Giftsgiving in Bully Harbour as a Minister. No sooner had he known he was to remain within Bully Harbour’s embrace for a permanent tenure he had begun organising the event. To anticipate such a deep freeze of the harbour’s waterways in significant advance was nigh impossible, and so he had liaised across Ministries to the best of his abilities to ensure that the relevant beasts were stood by ready, willing (thanks to a generous donation of coin) and able in the event that the fair could commence on any given day.

It was not all that long in coming once the month rolled over. After a steady drop in temperatures over the last week it finally reached the MinoComm’s ears the previous night that the river in the Slups had frozen significantly enough that their plans could go ahead. Runners were dispatched from the new Kreehold Barracks to begin assembling the workers and by dawn’s late light the mad scramble had begun.

Stood now in the late afternoon as shadows lengthened and the lights began to glow, Callisto surveyed the scene before him. The Frost Fair was a sprawling affair, most of which was, as the theme implied, taking place upon the river itself.

The broad swathe of smooth ice glinted pearlescent beauty in the low light, peeking between busy footpaws and the array of offerings set to enjoy. Stalls selling gifts and trinkets jostled with purveyors of sweetmeats, ale and mulled drinks – and even, on special import from the Northlands, a bizarre fizzy concoction made from fermented pine needles flavoured with crushed berries. Entertainment was planned on impromptu stages and games aplenty were to be found. Nearer the back of the festivities loomed an impressive range of dedicated stalls for heartier meals and a sprawl of benches for conversing or carousing; at the other end the more adventurous beasts could find the opportunity to skate upon the ice itself.

Down where the ice thinned and the river met the sea bonfires had been lit on the shore, occasionally dusted with pawfuls of chemicals to change the colour of the flames. Along the banks and strung at odd intervals were arrays of coloured lanterns to illuminate the scene, many of which would be lit as the night continued to darken. On the banks several wooden structures had been hastily erected for those with money to afford a more prestigious, or private, outlook upon the Fair.

It was a scene of twinkling light, soft colour and cheery sound: by all accounts as festive as he could have hoped for it to appear and, now that the event was formally underway, Callisto could finally relax from the duties of preparation. The wolverine breathed deep, inhaling the heady combination of chill air and warming, rich scents from the stalls, and bared his fangs in a grin. The chill, so reminiscent of his Northlands home, proved almost as invigorating as the promise of good ale and a song or two, which the Minister set his sights upon sampling as he stepped onto the ice. The night, after all, was young.



(Welcome to the Giftsgiving celebration of 1765! Indulge in the winter festivities however you see fit: from ice skating and games to eating, shopping and gift-swapping there’s something for all. We kindly ask that attendees keep within the spirit of the season and, until further notice, post no more than twice a day each to allow slower-paced partners at this time of year the opportunity to join in!)

 

[Pomodu lu Modokunomulo]

"Happy Gifugivuti'ngu!" the red panda called to the crowd as she, bundled up in a red and white coat that managed to clash horribly with the slightly orange tint of her fur, passed out presents from a sack that was large enough to easily hold three grown mustelids. Pomodu, in a spirit of the holiday, had gone to every pawn shop and thrift store in the Slups and Trenches, buying out almost their entire inventories. These she had wrapped in brown paper and rough twine with far more enthusiasm than skill, and now, in the best approximation of what she believed Father Giftsgiving's outfit to look like, she was trying to fulfill that role to seemingly the entire population of Bully Harbor.

"Alrigh'!" A ferret just shy of his teenage years cheered as he unwrapped his gift. "A mint condition Armina Rogue collectible trading card! Now all I need is Jak the Reaper and I'll have the entire serial killer set!"

"Lucky," his younger brother remarked jealously. "All I got is this novelty plate shaped like a trout wearing a scarf." He turned over the ceramic dish in disappointment.

"I got a knife!" their little sister cheerfully exclaimed, waving the object above her head. "Look, it has blood on it!"

Her alarmed brothers attempted to cajole the weapon away from her, prompting the kit to defiantly run away through the crowd, weapon waving back and forth while her brothers chased. Pomodu's smile radiated pure joy and goodwill as she watched the scene. Bully Harbor might be a place of wanton violence most of the year, but when the spirit of the holidays took hold, it was truly a wonderful sight.

 

[Nicolas of Iron Pit]

Whilst the notion of giftsgiving seemed utterly preposterous to many more entrenched beasts in Ministry of Innovation. It was once more a show of how fanatical some of them were, which was something that Nicolas, finally reaching the pinnacle of his life-long work, achieving the title of the Minister of Innovation, knew way more than most. He himself would be just as fanatical and he knew it. Were it not for the few beasts he had met in his life, Callisto, Orina, Irene and their kittens.... he would possibly grow just as sourly dismissive of those holidays that were by any means impractical.

He was a good mediator however and by all means had his heart firmly aligned with ministerial interests. So while it was his decision to do something for this years Giftsgiving, he could easily convince everybeast at the committee that it was as a matter of fact useful event for the ministry and worthy their participation.

After all, no better ways to test new inventions than by gifting them to masses. Doubling also as a way to warm up their image which, as Nicolas was acutely aware, was typically not rather poorly thought of.

As such, while the main festivities took part upon the great Mowt River, at least the part of it that wasn't kept clean of ice to allow the port access, Ministry of Innovation took to setting up their small faire at the central plaza in the Slups, close to the infamous Bilge. It was a hotspot of activity even most of celebrations were happening someplace else, simply due to the location. It also was surrounded primarily by lodgings of impoverished beasts. Perfect place really to give out gifts while also allowing for Nicolas to stay away from where Callisto was as much as possible.

The carts were manned by the workers and agents of Ministry that were already not celebrating the even themselves to let the ones who did have more time to spare. Moving into the plaza, with Nicolas walking in front of them, the crowds dissipated, afraid of whatever the Ministry was up to.

But soon, after setting up few stalls and unpacking boxes of what were small waterskins at first glance, Nicolas himself took one and shook it fiercely.

The chemicals within mixed thoroughly, starting the exothermic reaction that resulted in the waterskin getting comfortably warm in his paws.

Picking up a chunk of Ice, he put the waterskin upon it, making it melt very quickly. Practical demonstrations were always the best when it came to those who were typically uneducated. As the process were happening, Nicolas' voice boomed across the plaza, silencing any whispers or gasps of the crowds nearby.

"Dear citizens. To celebrate the Giftsgiving, we wish to bring to you ability to stay warm for this day without having to hurdle around braizers. Take those packets of portable warmth with you. Free of charge or any obligations."

And well, he knew it wouldn't instantly work. The populace was too scared, dismissive or hateful, even if it was the better part of the Slups, the heavy boot that fell upon it recently was still felt. Hence why he had a paid agent to help out in this little show. After all, reptiles were the ones who needed the warmth the most...

---

Izakis was paid before to do many crazy things. Most of them would make most deviant beasts blush. This one however was weird in a very different way. As she tried to keep warm by one of the many braizers put on the streets, despite wearing many layers of thick clothing, forming a covering but alluring dress of sorts, she was approached by a beast who was paying very generously for just one thing.

Serving as a walking advertisment.

She didn't mind of course, the pay was great and she was promised warmth she so desperately needed. As such accepting was an easy choice... just a shame she didn't know it was a stunt for a ministry of innovation. With her being now employed with Smudgies, she had a concern if it wasn't going to be seen as a betrayal.

Nevertheless, she went through. After the large cat who was a minister showed their product, sensing the hesitation of the crowd, Izakis did her best to show hesitance and walk over to the Minister, making sure that the folds of her clothing and movements will gather all the attention on the plaza.

When close, she slowly reached out for the waterskin. Minister, with a smile, gave it to her.

And she instantly was amazed.

It was waaaaaaaaaaarm, pleasantly, persistently and more importantly, it could be pressed upon her scales. She put it by her neck, letting out an actual sigh of relief and contentment at feeling the warmth entering her blood.

"Thank you Minister... I... genuinely hope more of those will come... those are truly a gates' ssssent gift for all us cold-bloods... "

And then she went back into the crowd, genuinely happy she participated and got to be first.

Especially as now the crowd went wild to get their source of warmth for the time being.

 

[Callix Noxi]

Looking the walking anthropomorphism of 'Bah Humbug', Captain Callix Noxi waddled suspiciously toward these newfangled heating devices. Waddled, because she was bundled up inside three Fogey coats and one festive hat with a bobble on it that did not match her angry face. Suspiciously, because she was suspicious of anything and everything that might force her to throw off her coats to pursue a miscreant, and she quietly hoped these warmers were all they were advertised to be. The Imperium hadn't historically fussed much about catering to her kind.

She was on duty, but that did not mean she couldn't mingle. She was even encouraged to. Much as that wasn't to her taste.

After eyeing the other departing lizard, she approached the seemingly benevolent new minister.

"I vould like von of zese varm zingz. How do zey not cauze burnz?"

She tilted her head and blinked her one good eye.​

 

[Cryle]

Eskila and Oreva

"Yeah," said a weary, slightly muffled voice in the crowd. "How do they not burn? Are they going to catch on fire?"

The crowd parted with some murmurs, revealing a tall sable jill, entirely covered in soot-black armor... and soot. Beside her, an equally soot-black wildcat with a limp, who was mostly focused on pulling a cart full of empty water barrels with a leaking hose and two shields piled on top. The wildcat shivered with a half-burned blanket wrapped around her shoulders, but the sable edged forward with sombre purpose. She took off her helmet, revealing an orange bib of neck fluff, the light fur of her face masked with soot in the pattern of her helmet's visor and goggles - she could have been mistaken for a ferret.

"It's been a morning and I don't want any more fires happening, I want to go to the festival," the sable said.

"Pih?" said Oreva, tilting her head at Eskila as she bumped into her from behind, then turning her gaze to the show ahead of them.

~ ◦ ◌ ◊ ☼ ◊ ◌ ◦ ~

Korya and Cryle

"I don't trust it," said Cryle, tapping the toes of her boot against the ice. "Too many beasts. Too much weight. Too much warmth. We could sink."

"That'd be great," said Korya, pulling the rat along by the sleeve of her crimson coat. The little cat was waving her new walking stick ahead of her, smacking beasts left and right out of the way, then remembering to let it touch the ground now and then to make sure there wasn't a change in elevation or some other obstacle. "Nothing makes a frost festival frosty like a good icy river swim!"

"Not in this river," the ratmaid muttered, shuddering. "I don't think it's technically water anymore..."

"Hey, somebeast got a knife! I want a knife! HEY, I WANT A KNIFE, TOO!" Korya yanked them towards the sounds of merriment, and Cryle pondered the ways to become invisible - invisible and tiny, yes. That was the thing. To be unseen and so small that if one were seen, one wouldn't be noticed anyway...

~ ◦ ◌ ◊ ☼ ◊ ◌ ◦ ~

Nevali and Tizzi Poof

"Steeeep riiiight up! Witness th' miracle of th' season! Th' whirlwind captured in a bottle, th' lightnin' chained ter leash! Ain't lived 'til yer peeped this amazin' forest spirit, long lost in th' sewers o' Bully Harbor! Folks tell it grew from a mighty oak, an' was shipped to Vulpinsula to be fitted ter th' original BlackShip's hull! There it saw countless battles, 'til one fateful eve it was torn asunder by cannon, an' found floatin' upriver! Distraught to be away from th' rest of th' woods and moulded by Slups slime, it grew ter take shape of one of yer own - th' mighty weasel! I searched many a long day for it in the depths, many a longer night scrubbin' up myself after. It was not 'til a mysterious and well-dressed Fyodoran noble mentioned strange noises in his attic that I finally found th' trail. Two platoons of Stoatorian Guard were laid low by this creature, I swear it on me mother's tail. It took cunnin', and immeasurable heaps o' luck an' patience before I even laid eyes on it, nevermind how I got it in me thrall. So, have I got yer attention? Then... Behold! The Beast o' BlackShip Oak! Th' Scourge of th' Slups! Th' Nightmare That Dwelleth In Our Hearts!"

The weasel's garb made her a natural barker. The outlandish wizarding hat, the swirl of colors in her robe, the mismatched lenses of her massive, thick glasses, all stood out from the common Slups rabble. And beside her, on a small table, was a cage covered in a heavy woolen blanket. She tapped the top twice, and when enough gawkers had arrived, she pulled the blanket away to reveal...

"Tchk-tchk-tchk! Tizzi kill, murder, destroy! Tizzi is no pet! Tizzi is empire! Tizzi demand melons!"

Tizzi Poof spun in circles, banging off the walls of the cage, grabbing and shaking the bars with a pointless ferocity. It stuck half its muzzle through a square, spitting and hissing and blowing raspberries.

It was wearing a frilly yellow smock with lace trim and a matching bonnet, and had grey wool mittens on all four paws. The bottom of the cage was layered with a baby blue cotton blanket.

Nevali pulled a slice of watermelon from under her hat brim and slid it through the cage bars, where it promptly exploded, such was the way that Tizzi bit into the succulent red flesh. The green rind was rendered into minute chunks and sent flying from the cage, splattering the closest.

"Sorry, splash zone, shoulda said," said Nevali, pulling a pink pawkerchief from her hat and passing it to the nearest beast. "So fer just ten gilders, you c'n try ter pet th' Fury of th' Fae, risk your digits with th' Devil of th' Damp Dungeons! In th' absence of gilders, we'll take whatever weird bits an' bobs ye got on ya, don't matter none wot it is. String with a bit of metal on one end'll do! Discarded toeclaw bent into a funny shape, that's perfect!"

 

[Jill (The Beast)]

It was.... hard... for Jill to enjoy things like these for a particular number of reasons. Significant events required extensive security, leaving local businesses vulnerable to theft. Not to mention the event itself could always be targeted by pickpockets, scammers, and other lowlives. Then her mind wandered to all the kits who couldn't enjoy the fun—the orphans, cold and alone. Anger started to well up within her like bile in her stomach, but she suppressed it.

"How can you be out here, having fun while such injustice plagues our city, Beast?" Mask asked her, a sneer in his voice.

"Beast isn't here, Jill is." Jill responded. She was still wearing the Beast's outfit, but she had thrown on a simple tunic and pantaloons over it and flipped her cape inside out. Mask was with her too, stuffed away in a knapsack that hung off her belt. Just in case she needed to become the Beast at a moment's notice. "I'm trying to have a nice day, Mask."

To passersby, it seemed Jill was talking to herself. Though if that was the craziest thing that happened, they'd probably consider themselves lucky.

"You don't deserve to have a nice day, Jill. Crime never takes a day off. Why should you?"

Jill grimaced, and she rubbed her forehead. Please, not today, Mask. I promised some beast I would be here, and I intend to keep that promise.

With that, Jill tried to drown Masks protests out of her mind as she shuffled awkwardly through the crowds.

 

[Marble]

The vixen from the far off lands of glistening seas and warm weather was quite surprised by the changing of the seasons and how quickly the cold had snuck in. Her fur had started to change into the more grey of her mothers side, starting to wear more layers and having to borrow some clothing from Minerva as she quickly found herself ill prepared for the cold. Still it was a very interesting thing to experience with the snow deep to her calves in some streets, seeing the rivers starting to freeze over as winter set in, something that was rare in her home lands. Plus there was this gift giving festivity that seemed to be going on and whilst her people had holy days in the winter this one was a little new to her.

The Frost Fair was something that defiantly caught Miothiyle's interest though, an opportunity for her to get out among the people and observe the culture so she stuck on her winter clothes and headed out into the already packed streets. Her attention was almost immediately caught by the beasts on the water giving away hot water bottles and she was curious to try them once she saw the demonstration and how it worked with some sort of alchemical reaction as opposed to just filling them with hot water. She took one and tucked it under her jacket, a slight hum of satisfaction as the warmth radiating through her layers. Then she quickly moved on to let others in to try the new creation, nodding her head politely as people passed her and gave her a 'Happy giftgivng,' it was an interesting experience and one she would hopefully enjoy, picking up the pace and heading towards the market stalls to see what was on offer

 

[Ruffano Quickwhistle]

The cigar stand sat just far enough from the ice that Grubbage could tell himself he was still on solid, trustworthy ground, even if the Frost Fair pressed in from every direction with lantern light and laughter and the treacherous cheer of beasts who did not understand how easily joy curdled into liability. The stand itself was neat to the point of compulsion, crates stacked square and true, signage painted plainly, the good stock tucked safely out of sight while the lesser sticks sat ready for curious paws and careless purses. It smelled of cured leaf and faint spice, a dignified counterpoint to the sugar and smoke that ruled the river.

Grubbage sat hunched behind it, fez tugged low, one blind eye half-lidded as he watched the crowds pass, counting heads and habits alike.

The rattle of a small wagon announced trouble long before he saw the culprits.

Griblo leaned into the harness with easy familiarity, boots crunching over packed snow as he hauled the last stretch toward the stand, while behind him Ruffano trailed like a noble refugee from the Winter War, swaddled in layers upon layers, an opulent burgundy coat crowning the whole affair like a final, defiant flourish of vanity. His scarf was wrapped high enough to obscure most of his muzzle, his breath fogging dramatically as he paused every few steps to glare at the cold as though it had personally offended him.

Griblo stopped the wagon with a practiced tug, straightening and rolling his shoulders as he flashed Grubbage a fiendish grin.

"Gates, Grub! Seein’ ye elsewheres from yer stuffy ol’ pawn shop’s a sight t’ behold! Thought we’d have t’ pry ye loose with a crowbar!"

Grubbage’s good eye slid toward him, unimpressed, but there was a flicker there too, something almost like satisfaction.

"Don’t get poetic, ferret. I’m here t’ make money, not memories. An’ if ye scuff up my crates draggin’ ’em like that, I’ll dock it from yer cut."

Griblo snorted and bent to unlatch the wagon, already hefting the first crate with an ease born of long familiarity with heavier burdens.

"Cut’s generous fer what ye paid me t’ source this lot in the first place. Cheap sticks fer beasts who don’t know better, aye? Or don’t care."

"Both," Grubbage replied promptly. "An’ that’s business."

Ruffano had lingered a pace behind, clutching a small, faintly steaming waterskin to his chest like a talisman, his eyes narrowed in deep betrayal as he exhaled through his scarf.

"I was promised warmth," he muttered darkly. "This is… temperate. At best. Barely a trickle from Vulpus’s forge."

"It’s literally steamin’, Ruff," Griblo said without looking up as he stacked the crate neatly beside the stand. "Yer jus’ holdin’ it wrong!"

"Quit whinin’ an’ either smoke or walk," Grubbage added, already checking seals and inventory with sharp, efficient motions. "Cold’s free, but loiterin’ ain’t."

Ruffano sniffed, drawing himself up with what dignity the weather had not yet stripped from him.

"Spoken like a beast whose soul was forged in a damp cellar," he said loftily, though his fingers tightened around the waterskin all the same.

Griblo and Grubbage fell easily into the rhythm of trade talk after that, voices low and edged with numbers, placement, and expectations. Grubbage cast appraising glances at the passing crowds, muttering about foot traffic and the sort of beasts who bought cigars for image rather than taste, while Griblo countered with observations about timing and spectacle, about how scent carried better near the food stalls and how kits tugging at parents’ paws were excellent for impulse sales.

Ruffano listened with half an ear, stamping his boots once, twice, trying to coax feeling back into his toe beans.

That was when the shrill cheer cut through the air.

“I got a knife!”

Ruffano’s head snapped toward the sound, eyes widening as a small ferret kit tore past the stand, blade held aloft in wild triumph while older siblings scrambled in horrified pursuit.

"Oh," Ruffano breathed, something bright and delighted sparking behind his eyes. "Now that is artistry."

Grubbage grimaced. Griblo barked a laugh.

And then Ruffano saw her.

The red panda stood out like a living holiday disaster, coat clashing gloriously with her fur as she called out cheer and chaos in equal measure, arms deep in a sack that seemed to defy spatial logic. Wrapped parcels flew paw to paw, the crowd surging and laughing around her as she beamed like the sun itself had taken up residence within the folds of her festivity.

Something in Ruffano shifted. The hunch eased from his shoulders. The cold, so recently an unforgivable crime, seemed to lose its grip. He straightened, smoothing his coat with a practiced flick of his wrist, chin lifting as a familiar swagger rolled back into place like an old friend slipping into step.

"Ah, dear Pomodu," he said softly, reverently, though his words were still meant for his own ears, a private benediction before the altar of chaos. "There it is. The spirit of the season. Unhinged generosity, public spectacle, and absolutely no oversight."

"Hell’s teeth, Ruff…," Griblo groaned, not even turning as he slid another crate into place. "Just try not t’ get arrested."

"Or stabbed," Grubbage added dryly.

Ruffano waved them off, already stepping away, waterskin tucked beneath his arm and mostly forgotten.

"If destiny calls, gentlemen, one must answer," he declared, voice warm once more as he melted into the crowd, eyes fixed firmly on red fur and wrapped gifts.

Griblo watched him go, snorted, and turned back to the stand, shaking his head.

"Every time…" he said.

Grubbage adjusted a crate, settled deeper into his seat, and let the hum of the Fair wash over him, cigar smoke curling into lantern light as commerce resumed its proper, comforting shape.

---

Ruffano moved like the cold no longer had jurisdiction over him, threading between bodies with practiced grace, his scarf still high but his eyes bright, alert, delighted in the way only a beast who lived for spectacle could be. The kit shot past once again, still shrieking, still armed, and Ruffano’s mouth quirked as if that, too, were part of the choreography.

He slipped into the edge of Pomodu’s orbit, near enough to catch the full force of her cheer, the chaotic flutter of twine and paper, the way the crowd seemed to bend around her as though she were a festive tide.

Then he leaned in, a fraction, and pitched his voice to carry through the din without becoming part of it, as polished as a stage line and as sincere as Ruffano ever allowed sincerity to be.

"Why, if it isn't the lovely Pomodu," he greeted, warm recognition threaded neatly through each syllable, as though he’d been looking forward to this exact moment since the first snowflake fell. "I had hoped Bully Harbor hadn’t finally swallowed you whole. Clearly it tried, and you offended it into spitting you back out with gifts."

He offered a small, courtly flourish of his free paw, then lifted the waterskin slightly in a wry little show-and-tell, as if presenting a shared joke between old acquaintances.

"I’ve already been adopted by the season’s benevolence," he added, eyes glinting. "But I suspect you’re the true architect of this madness. Tell me, did you come to spread goodwill… or to see how fast an entire city can unravel under such festivities?"

 

[Pomodu lu Modokunomulo]

Pomodu's eyes lit up at the sight and sound of the familiar fox, and only her arm's depth in the sack, seeking out a present that seemed to be eluding the plausible dimensions of its container, prevented her from wrapping up the todd in a bone-crushing and drink-spilling hug. "Ru'fano!" she chirped, putting the emphasis on the wrong syllable in her distractable enthusiasm. With his verbose comments, however, her expression turned quizzical, her lips forming a small, confused 'O' shape as she tried to follow his remarks. With his addition of a question to the end, she shook her head in confirmation, albeit with a touch of hesitance that gave away the lapse in her understanding. "I gi'fu gi'futusu," she confirmed, finding her errant present and pulling out what appeared to be, based on the tightly-conforming wrapping paper, either a highly unusual gauntlet or a uniquely articulated model of a fox's paw. "I'su di Fata Gifugivuti'ngu doi'ngu ti'ngu, ye'su?" she remarked, a note of worry in her voice that indicated some small fear that, just maybe, she was getting the cultural practice wrong once more. Only the smiles and eagerness of the beasts around her seemed to be reassuring her enough to keep going. She offered the present to Ruffano, inquiring, "You tayku?"

~~~

Daniil wasn't a born natural skater; that, as with all things physical, was the purview of his cousin Anastasia and, a touch surprisingly, her older sister Ameliya, who had a fondness for winter activities that offset her loathing for even the mere existence of summer. Like all of the Ryalor kits, Daniil and his siblings had been afforded the opportunity to skate on the ponds in and around Storm's Peak Castle whenever they froze to a sufficient thickness, but none of the three had ever taken to it with the same fondness as their younger cousins. Still, compared to the average denizen of Bully Harbor, Daniil was at least passably good at it; he could keep himself upright, turn without falling over, and, at least most times, stop himself on the ice roughly where he intended to.

It had been a pleasant surprise to find that Caden, having lived in Varangia, had similarly developed his skill in ice skating. This had allowed the pair to go out on the ice together, enjoying a chance to be seen in public without being gawked at for the closeness of their mannerisms. After all, bundled up as they were, they could as easily be a jill and vixen as a jack and todd.

"You're incredible," he complimented Caden as they skated side-by-side. It was absolutely an overstatement, but lately Daniil had been prone to showering his jackfriend with praise, as well as with enough recitations and reminders of 'I love you' and its variants to fulfill an entire month's quota. The anxiousness of his tone and mannerism only emphasized the nervousness with which he awaited a return of the sentiment every single time, lest he receive the opposite reaction, or at least interpret the silence as rejection.