The gift is wrapped somewhat sloppily, with too much tape and a poorly tied ribbon. But underneath the perhaps childish wrapping job is a large wooden case the size of a briefcase with a small brass plate on front, bearing the monogram A.K.H., as well as a smaller one the size of a large pencil box. Inside this is a collection of artist's brushes, top of the line, of both soft and coarse bristles- and inside the large case are tubes of paint of every imaginable color, as well as a new palate.
Abelärd Haswell nearly forgot about the holiday. Well… not quite. More like he had been too busy with his daily job, and caring for those sick with colds and the flu, that he got caught up in his work. This was a common plight with the man, and he vowed to remedy it, each time he finally ‘got a break’.
He remembered the holiday, but forgot that it was finally December the twenty-fifth when he woke up this morning.
With this in mind, though, it was obvious that he was surprised to find the present left for him. Crudely wrapped, poorly done. Yes, Jane. No doubt his darling, beloved Soldier left him this. He was humbled, and it showed in the way he inspected the package with awe.
He carefully unwrapped it, laying aside the paper. It was barely ripped, could almost be used once more. A.K.H—-yes, his initials, the same exact ones he shared with his twin. The briefcase, how curious. What was inside of it?
A gasp escaped his lips. “Mein Gott.” Eyes widening, Abelärd gazed upon a variable array of artistic tools and paints. “Jane,” he murmured softly. “You precious, stubborn Soldier, you.”
Quickly he began to study and examine each brush, and each tube. Like an excited boy, he was already coming up with ideas on how to put these to good use. He’d paint a picture, yes. One of Jane. One just for him.