After a trip to the town [closed to Greg and James]

[dontkeepkosher]

James had gone out for the afternoon, and when he returned towards five in the evening, he made his way up to his and Greg's room

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[gotcanewillpoke]

Greg had been reading. He'd been out of the room and walked awound a bit, he'd napped for an hour or more, but he was currently awake and propped up on the pillows with a copy of Dicken's Great Expectations that he'd gotten from one of the lodge staff downstairs.

He set the book aside, open to the page he was reading and laid on the bedside table. "Hey." He inclined his head toward the package James carried, his eyes alight with question, and maybe the slightest hint of a childlike innocence, and hope that whatever it was, it was for him.

[dontkeepkosher]

James switched the package over to his other hand as he fully shrugged his jacket off and then discarded the jacket over the back of a chair before making his way across to the bed.

"Got you something while I was out," he remarked, and he extended the package towards him, and then lightly tossed it for Greg to catch.

Under the brown paper was a leather-bound book with blank pages. Pages for Greg to fill in.

[gotcanewillpoke]

Greg caught the package effortlessly, and tore it open uncereemoniously. It was an elegant and exquisite book, no doubt expensive. He drew a finger across the cover beefore looking up at James.

"You want me to write down my thoughts?" Of course he knew how theraputic daily writing could be. Or so the studies showed. He'd refused to take it seriously during his recovery.

[dontkeepkosher]

James pushed his hands into his pockets and gave a mild shrug. "It's why the pages are blank," he replied, giving a brief smartass smirk.

Maybe Greg would like to know why James wanted him to write his thoughts? Or maybe he'd already figured that part out.