He's still finding his feet, after only a day or so in this place--fighting the last-minute crowds at the mall, checking out the sparse, almost dorm-like furnishings of his assigned apartment in Dimera, sending an email to the transfer admissions office at Barton asking about enrolling for the spring term. Through it all, he's had Alex and her week's worth of experience; not much, maybe, but enough that he hasn't felt entirely lost.
His Dante, now become an odd kind of Virgil, guiding him through a world almost stranger than the one they'd left behind at Yale.
Alex had given him a rudimentary menu the day before, sending him out for wine and a few of the ingredients she didn't have to hand, and he gamely battled his way through the holiday chaos at one supermarket, then another, until he'd found everything he was looking for. Today, he'd gone out again and back to a store he'd passed a few times before, coming out a few minutes later with a small bag, bright and festive, tissue paper obscuring the contents. As evening falls, he pulls on his new wool peacoat and makes his way to the Bramford, dressed in a soft garnet-colored sweater and his dark jeans from home, a new pair of brown leather oxfords on his feet and the ribbon handles of that small bag looped around his fingers. Going up to the second floor, he fishes the spare key Alex had given him that first morning out of his pocket and unlocks the front door.
"Merry Christmas, Stern," he says, grinning over at her as he sees her still at work in the kitchen. "It smells amazing in here."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2019-12-24 10:25 pm (UTC)His Dante, now become an odd kind of Virgil, guiding him through a world almost stranger than the one they'd left behind at Yale.
Alex had given him a rudimentary menu the day before, sending him out for wine and a few of the ingredients she didn't have to hand, and he gamely battled his way through the holiday chaos at one supermarket, then another, until he'd found everything he was looking for. Today, he'd gone out again and back to a store he'd passed a few times before, coming out a few minutes later with a small bag, bright and festive, tissue paper obscuring the contents. As evening falls, he pulls on his new wool peacoat and makes his way to the Bramford, dressed in a soft garnet-colored sweater and his dark jeans from home, a new pair of brown leather oxfords on his feet and the ribbon handles of that small bag looped around his fingers. Going up to the second floor, he fishes the spare key Alex had given him that first morning out of his pocket and unlocks the front door.
"Merry Christmas, Stern," he says, grinning over at her as he sees her still at work in the kitchen. "It smells amazing in here."