"They showed up with the whole slew of strange creatures last year, and I guess they never found their ways back. Theodore told me they were still hanging around on my birthday, so they've been bunking with me ever since. This one's Growlithe, and Shieldon, and the shy bird up there is Rufflet."
Like last year Steve has a small fake tree classically decorated on the floor next to the large window on the far side of his apartment. He'd prefer a real tree but there's no way he'd be able to carry it up five flights of stairs. It does the job nicely and that's all that matters.
"D'you want anything to drink? Coffee? hot chocolate?"
Harrow perks up when Steve reminds him of that deluge of weird animals. He remembers that! In fact, it brings a little smile to his face. "I wound up with a few weird little critters back then too! One's a little tree, a girl I think. I called her Nugz. The other one's kinda like a... Hairy little piglet..." Harrow doesn't seem to sure himself on that one. Can't even describe his own sweet pocket monster. "I named him Lil' Buddy." He gives Growlithe one last lingering look before he tears himself away from the precious pokémon and focuses on Steve.
To coffee and hot chocolate he shakes his head. "You go ahead and make yourself some, though, if you want. I won't think you're rude for drinkin' while I got nothin'. Besides, I didn't come for coffee: I came to give you presents! So get your pot boilin' and come sit down."
He heads for Steve's nearest table and sets down his sack. Sounds like there's something heavy and hollow in there. Porcelain, perhaps? It's big, too, about knee high and vaguely statue-esque.
"I definitely am having a cup of coffee. Most folks don't get up earlier than me, I'll have you know."
Steve raises his voice so he can be heard while he rummages through his kitchen to get a pot of coffee put on before wandering back to the living room area. He's got on an oversized sweater when he returns and plops down on the sofa. It won't be long until the Pokemon have had their fill of investigating the new person and have gone back to their own little play area Steve has set up for them by the large window.
"I've got a gift for you too. it's that time of year and all." He smiles wide up at his friend.
"I didn't get up!" Harrow calls back with a small chuckle. "I just didn't go to sleep. So, technically, I think you're still the one who got up earliest here."
When Steve is back with mentions of presents for him, Harrow rubs his hands together. He's already excited! "We'll get to my presents after we do yours, how 'bout that?"
And, speaking of Steve's presents, Harrow turns around the sack so that the figure inside will be facing Steve. Then he does the honors of pulling down the sack to reveal... A Virgin Mary statue. She is wreathed in a gold and pastel blue veil which flows down to her feet like a cloak behind her white and gold robes. Her skin is painted light like Steve's and her hair has been non-traditionally depicted as blonde. A serene yet solemn expression defines her face. Her eyes are downcast, her hands down and palms open in a gesture of blessing and protection.
And there, dangling from one of her delicate hands, is some sort of bronze coin on a chain. On closer inspection it features the image of a bald-headed monk holding a child, both of them crowned by halos. By the classical depiction it is Saint Anthony of Padua without a doubt, and those words carved along the edge of the coin confirm it.
Harrow watches Steve closely as it's all revealed, and keeps a comfortable distance from the holy gifts he's giving.
Whatever had been crossing Steve's mind fizzles with the rest of his breath as he looks at the statuette Harrow has gotten for him. He remembers the smell of the cared for wood in the church he grew up attending, the feel of the hymnal in his hands.
He can still name every single member of the congregation and remembers his mother's funeral. For a moment he forgets he's in the Nexus when he takes a step forward to look it over.
"Harrow. This is....how did you...?" Steve is choking up and finding trouble speaking. It's been the hardest thing to take with him from his old world.
Harrow moves to stand next to Steve. He puts a hand on his far shoulder and pulls him in for a half-hug that doesn't turn him away from his gifts. He's quiet for a while, unsure if he ought to talk about the details of gift-giving while Steve is so obviously emotional.
"I got curious about your religion and decided to read a while. I learned that saints are important to y'all and decided I wanted to get you a few. Figured since it's a religious holiday I could get you a religious gift, right? So I found a nice little store here in the Nexus where they sell things like this. I told the shopkeeps all about you – hope ya don't mind – and they helped me find a saint for you. They thought St. Anthony was right, and I thought so too. I picked Mary on my own. She seemed like someone you needed in your life, and they had this one that was painted like this. I thought, 'She looks like she could be Steve's ma.' I knew as soon as I saw her I had to buy her." He laughs quietly and shakes his head. "I had to put her on layaway while I earned the cash. I'm glad they didn't sell her in the mean time. Guess it was meant to be, huh? That she'd wind up here, lookin' after you?"
His hand grips Steve's shoulder gently. "I'm just glad you like 'em, Steve. I just hope they... Work?... Look after you, and all. Keep you safe and loved."
He grips Harrow's shirt tightly as he hugs the other back. The undead is always surprising Steve, giving him such thoughtful presents and things he no longer has from his home.
"My Ma was a nurse. We'd go to church together every Sunday unless one of us was sick." He smiles through the tears at Harrow's explanation and gives a laugh that's very much grateful despite the mess his face is in. "This means so much to me, you know? It's...it's harder than you'd think to find a Catholic church that teaches the same thing as what I call it back home."
He takes a moment to reach out and brush his fingers gently against the chain with the bronzed St. Anthony coin at the end of it.
"I lost my family Bible when I ended up here. I don't worry so much about things by and large, but it was one of the few things I had left from my Pa. I can't thank you enough for these."
"Shoot," Harrow whispers, running his hand up and down Steve's arm. "I know they probably can't bring back what's gone, but I... I don't know if I really got the words? It... Means somethin' to me that it made you think of home like that. I– I'm just glad it all means somethin' to you, too."
A small moment passes in silence with Harrow considering the gifts and the way Steve himself considers them. Then he breaks away that hug and steps away, giving his friend some room to breathe.
"What was it like?" he asks. "Goin' to church? Bein' Catholic and all? You don't talk too much about it, but I bet you got some knowledge those books I read don't. Will you tell me about it? What it means to you? How it's important and all?"
Steve sucks in a breath and looks down at his hands. He's hardly a shining example of the Church, but he believes in the spirit of the teachings. Is he even qualified to try and explain god? There are 'gods' walking around the Nexus. He's heard the claims.
"For me, it was about the community. Havin' somewhere to belong, because frankly most of us felt like we didn't belong anywhere else. The nitty gritty details of the rules sometimes contradict themselves, but at its core...it's about how we're all equals. All Children of God. We're all deserving of decency and basic rights."
And for someone born with so much less it means a lot to Steve to remember he's no lesser man than anyone else.
"It's how we should all forgive and be decent to each other. And sometimes, it's hard. I think about what Hitler is doing in Europe and I wonder how a Loving God can let it happen. But we made the mess. We should solve it. Because we're strong enough to."
Harrowheart listens to Steve's initial explanation with the kind of blankness of a man who's hearing a language he doesn't comprehend. Are there words he understands there? Sure. But the concepts behind it all... He hardly gets to ruminate before Steve is speaking once more, and he finds himself listening closely again, trying to catch what it is he doesn't quite understand.
It's Hitler and Nazis and killing – something he thinks he might understand a little more than Christianity and unity in the Holy Spirit – that finally gets him nodding. How easy it is to remember that Steve doesn't come from the same Earth as so many others. He comes from an Earth with war, with hatred, with starvation and poverty. He comes from a world where he lives, essentially, alone. Alone in a society of torment. And he so small, so poor.
Harrowheart begins to nod again. Things seem to be coming together. Community would mean a lot in a world like that, in a body like Steve's, in a lonely life of loss. Equality. Family. 'Children of God.' Now it's making sense. The look of confusion on his face has slowly given way to a sense of understanding that hopefully Steve will recognize without any words needing to be said. He's not sure he can articulate it all regardless.
"It sounds nice," he says, hushed and in the kind of placating tone usually reserved for mourners at funerals. "I don't really think religion's like that on my world. Not any ones I know, anyway. The idea of people bein' equal is..." He laughs humorlessly, almost guiltily. Some people are just better than others on Azeroth. That's the reality. And while one paladin or priest might swear the Light illuminates all souls, he certainly doesn't feel part of the that 'inclusive' majority. It's hard to, when everything about what he is is the antithesis of the Light.
"I'd say I'd try goin' to church with you sometime, but I'd probably melt if I stepped inside." This time his laugh comes with a little honesty, and he pats Steve lightly on the back to cheer him up and rouse him from his grim thoughtfulness. "I had to get all dressed up in layers when I went to that Christian store just in case I bumped into any holy relics on accident. Shoot, you shoulda seen me. I looked like Steve Rogers when Reynard came to town."
Another laugh, this one the most sincere of all, quickly fades away to neutrality and eventually a small, thoughtful frown. He's quiet a while as he watches Steve. Eventually he opens his mouth to say, "Sorry about all'a that stuff that happened with Reynard, by the way. Last winter, y'know. I feel like we kinda never really talked about it. Never really talked about what happened with our bodies, either..."
"You don't hafta go inside to learn. It's about this."
Steve reaches over and pokes Harrow in the chest, right over where his heart would be beating if he were alive. Steve knows logically that Harrow isn't alive and that the rules of good and bad don't always apply the same between worlds.
But Steve also remembers the Winter last year and the body swap between them and Viatorus and Steve knows something truthfully that he'd never waver on.
"We might not always agree on what's right, but you've got a good heart. I don't hold you any ill will from last Winter, and the whole body swap thing brought all three of us closer together. I don't regret a minute of it."
At first it's amusing, Steve poking him like that. When the finger is gone he rubs at the spot as if it hurts, though it surely doesn't. But as Steve keeps talking Harrow finds the half-smile that had formed on his face fading.
A good heart.
His brows come together and his eyes slip away into deep and distant thoughts. It doesn't feel right to let Steve keep believing that... But he isn't sure he has the strength to confront it. He has to skirt the issue, distract from it with a vague nod. There are other things to discuss.
"It did bring us together," he mumbles absently. "I learned a lot about myself. And about you, too. You're a real strong guy, you know that? You put up with a lot more than I ever had to, and you're... You're so much braver about it than I ever could'a been. There's somethin' special about what you're made of, Steve. I just... I ain't sure I'm smart enough to say it right. Maybe it ain't even somethin' you can describe. It's like an aura, man. Like an aura of confidence, determination. It's..."
Something brings a little smile back to his face then. He reaches out and gently returns that poke to Steve's heart. "It's this."
Steve shrugs at Harrowheart even as his friend is poking him back in the chest. It's not right to think of himself as anything special. He didn't even get to pull his own weight like others were doing. "Maybe there's something in the water there."
The joke covers up how much he misses his home. The life he could have had.
He has to remember what this place has given him. The friends, the knowledge, the opportunities he never had. Steve isn't wanting for a roof over his head here. He gets by. Is sick less often.
"Meetin' you guys has been the best thing that's happened to me." He admits quietly. "Thanks for being around, Harrow."
Harrow puts his hand on Steve's shoulder and shakes his head. "Bein' around for you is the least I could do, Steve. And... Just so you know? You're not the only one who'd say meetin' his friends here has been the best thing that ever happened to him." Laughing quietly he adds, "Too bad it had to happen after I died. But that's just how the universe works, ain't it?"
He glances toward the gifts he'd given, then turns back to Steve. "But enough of that sappy shit. I think you mentioned gifts earlier?" He bounces his eyebrows as a smile creeps across his face.
Steve gives his own presents one last extremely touched look while he scrambles to get to his feet and wander over to the little artificial tree he'd decorated for the holiday. The Shieldon gets up from where she'd been dozing and noses two of the packages from the modest pile over to Steve as he approaches and gets a fond headrub for helping a guy out.
"Thanks. Sorry I woke you." He murmurs before carrying both packages over to Harrow.
"Okay so...I made you your gift a while ago but I was shopping the other day and found something I pretty much had to get you."
He hands Harrow the smaller of the two gifts first with a nervous chuckle. Truly a marijuana pipe has never been more tastefully wrapped. It's in it's own little white and gold Christmas box underneath the brown craft paper Steve wraps all of his gifts in, sitting in a pile of snow white tissue paper.
The second present is rectangular and rather thin. Underneath the wrapping is a framed picture done in charcoal of Harrowheart with Viatorus and Steve on either side of him wrapped into a group hug. Steve made sure to capture Harrow's big farm boy grin, the slightly nervous tilt of Viatorus' eyebrows at the physical contact despite clearly happy to be among friends, and his own bony hand gripping the back of Harrowheart's as Steve tries to return the gesture as best he can from the position he's in.
As soon as Harrow gets a look at the pipe he tosses his head back and barks a loud laugh. Then he takes it in his hands, holding it in both open palms while his expression swirls with surprise, joy, and confusion. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined Steve would get him something so... So... So perfectly trashy! He nearly picks Steve up and hugs him right there, but then he catches sight of the second gift. He slips the pipe into his shirt pocket for later and gets to unwrapping what he's already sure is bound to be art.
And even though he expected what it would be, he didn't expect this. So much of it is overwhelming. He looks it over inch by inch, his lips parting and his eyebrows twitching as he notices new details here and there. Now and then he steals glances Steve's way, smiling uncertainly as if it's hard to believe that this is his and he gets to keep it.
Eventually he touches it against his better judgement, but the charcoal is safely sealed and isn't damaged in the slightest by the brush of his fingertips. That's when he finally smiles and turns to Steve for good this time.
"I – I don't know what to say, man. It's... I mean, it's gorgeous! You did such a good job, everyone looks..." He glances back at the art and laughs quietly. "Like ourselves." Facing Steve once more he excitedly says, "I've never had art of my own! Shoot, I need someplace to hang it now. I hope Naugus don't mind if I put it up in his castle a while. Hell, I'm gonna be lookin' at this forever..."
And, indeed, he gets back to looking at it. The joy of art is one which never ends, but is periodically revisited.
Just because Steve Rogers can't have the stuff, doesn't mean he doesn't know what it is. Or how much Harrowheart enjoys America and every tacky decoration and shirt he can find.
"I thought you'd like that."
It's a wry smile he gives Harrow, but it's one that turns softer when Harrow opens the picture. Steve spent a lot of time thinking about what he was grateful for this year, and the friendship he has with these two stood out above and beyond. He's wanted to draw something like this for a while. Hopes Harrow understands how much their friendship means to Steve.
"Well, it'll last for a while hanging up somewhere, not to worry."
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Like last year Steve has a small fake tree classically decorated on the floor next to the large window on the far side of his apartment. He'd prefer a real tree but there's no way he'd be able to carry it up five flights of stairs. It does the job nicely and that's all that matters.
"D'you want anything to drink? Coffee? hot chocolate?"
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To coffee and hot chocolate he shakes his head. "You go ahead and make yourself some, though, if you want. I won't think you're rude for drinkin' while I got nothin'. Besides, I didn't come for coffee: I came to give you presents! So get your pot boilin' and come sit down."
He heads for Steve's nearest table and sets down his sack. Sounds like there's something heavy and hollow in there. Porcelain, perhaps? It's big, too, about knee high and vaguely statue-esque.
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Steve raises his voice so he can be heard while he rummages through his kitchen to get a pot of coffee put on before wandering back to the living room area. He's got on an oversized sweater when he returns and plops down on the sofa. It won't be long until the Pokemon have had their fill of investigating the new person and have gone back to their own little play area Steve has set up for them by the large window.
"I've got a gift for you too. it's that time of year and all." He smiles wide up at his friend.
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When Steve is back with mentions of presents for him, Harrow rubs his hands together. He's already excited! "We'll get to my presents after we do yours, how 'bout that?"
And, speaking of Steve's presents, Harrow turns around the sack so that the figure inside will be facing Steve. Then he does the honors of pulling down the sack to reveal... A Virgin Mary statue. She is wreathed in a gold and pastel blue veil which flows down to her feet like a cloak behind her white and gold robes. Her skin is painted light like Steve's and her hair has been non-traditionally depicted as blonde. A serene yet solemn expression defines her face. Her eyes are downcast, her hands down and palms open in a gesture of blessing and protection.
And there, dangling from one of her delicate hands, is some sort of bronze coin on a chain. On closer inspection it features the image of a bald-headed monk holding a child, both of them crowned by halos. By the classical depiction it is Saint Anthony of Padua without a doubt, and those words carved along the edge of the coin confirm it.
Harrow watches Steve closely as it's all revealed, and keeps a comfortable distance from the holy gifts he's giving.
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He can still name every single member of the congregation and remembers his mother's funeral. For a moment he forgets he's in the Nexus when he takes a step forward to look it over.
"Harrow. This is....how did you...?" Steve is choking up and finding trouble speaking. It's been the hardest thing to take with him from his old world.
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"I got curious about your religion and decided to read a while. I learned that saints are important to y'all and decided I wanted to get you a few. Figured since it's a religious holiday I could get you a religious gift, right? So I found a nice little store here in the Nexus where they sell things like this. I told the shopkeeps all about you – hope ya don't mind – and they helped me find a saint for you. They thought St. Anthony was right, and I thought so too. I picked Mary on my own. She seemed like someone you needed in your life, and they had this one that was painted like this. I thought, 'She looks like she could be Steve's ma.' I knew as soon as I saw her I had to buy her." He laughs quietly and shakes his head. "I had to put her on layaway while I earned the cash. I'm glad they didn't sell her in the mean time. Guess it was meant to be, huh? That she'd wind up here, lookin' after you?"
His hand grips Steve's shoulder gently. "I'm just glad you like 'em, Steve. I just hope they... Work?... Look after you, and all. Keep you safe and loved."
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"My Ma was a nurse. We'd go to church together every Sunday unless one of us was sick." He smiles through the tears at Harrow's explanation and gives a laugh that's very much grateful despite the mess his face is in. "This means so much to me, you know? It's...it's harder than you'd think to find a Catholic church that teaches the same thing as what I call it back home."
He takes a moment to reach out and brush his fingers gently against the chain with the bronzed St. Anthony coin at the end of it.
"I lost my family Bible when I ended up here. I don't worry so much about things by and large, but it was one of the few things I had left from my Pa. I can't thank you enough for these."
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A small moment passes in silence with Harrow considering the gifts and the way Steve himself considers them. Then he breaks away that hug and steps away, giving his friend some room to breathe.
"What was it like?" he asks. "Goin' to church? Bein' Catholic and all? You don't talk too much about it, but I bet you got some knowledge those books I read don't. Will you tell me about it? What it means to you? How it's important and all?"
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Steve sucks in a breath and looks down at his hands. He's hardly a shining example of the Church, but he believes in the spirit of the teachings. Is he even qualified to try and explain god? There are 'gods' walking around the Nexus. He's heard the claims.
"For me, it was about the community. Havin' somewhere to belong, because frankly most of us felt like we didn't belong anywhere else. The nitty gritty details of the rules sometimes contradict themselves, but at its core...it's about how we're all equals. All Children of God. We're all deserving of decency and basic rights."
And for someone born with so much less it means a lot to Steve to remember he's no lesser man than anyone else.
"It's how we should all forgive and be decent to each other. And sometimes, it's hard. I think about what Hitler is doing in Europe and I wonder how a Loving God can let it happen. But we made the mess. We should solve it. Because we're strong enough to."
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It's Hitler and Nazis and killing – something he thinks he might understand a little more than Christianity and unity in the Holy Spirit – that finally gets him nodding. How easy it is to remember that Steve doesn't come from the same Earth as so many others. He comes from an Earth with war, with hatred, with starvation and poverty. He comes from a world where he lives, essentially, alone. Alone in a society of torment. And he so small, so poor.
Harrowheart begins to nod again. Things seem to be coming together. Community would mean a lot in a world like that, in a body like Steve's, in a lonely life of loss. Equality. Family. 'Children of God.' Now it's making sense. The look of confusion on his face has slowly given way to a sense of understanding that hopefully Steve will recognize without any words needing to be said. He's not sure he can articulate it all regardless.
"It sounds nice," he says, hushed and in the kind of placating tone usually reserved for mourners at funerals. "I don't really think religion's like that on my world. Not any ones I know, anyway. The idea of people bein' equal is..." He laughs humorlessly, almost guiltily. Some people are just better than others on Azeroth. That's the reality. And while one paladin or priest might swear the Light illuminates all souls, he certainly doesn't feel part of the that 'inclusive' majority. It's hard to, when everything about what he is is the antithesis of the Light.
"I'd say I'd try goin' to church with you sometime, but I'd probably melt if I stepped inside." This time his laugh comes with a little honesty, and he pats Steve lightly on the back to cheer him up and rouse him from his grim thoughtfulness. "I had to get all dressed up in layers when I went to that Christian store just in case I bumped into any holy relics on accident. Shoot, you shoulda seen me. I looked like Steve Rogers when Reynard came to town."
Another laugh, this one the most sincere of all, quickly fades away to neutrality and eventually a small, thoughtful frown. He's quiet a while as he watches Steve. Eventually he opens his mouth to say, "Sorry about all'a that stuff that happened with Reynard, by the way. Last winter, y'know. I feel like we kinda never really talked about it. Never really talked about what happened with our bodies, either..."
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Steve reaches over and pokes Harrow in the chest, right over where his heart would be beating if he were alive. Steve knows logically that Harrow isn't alive and that the rules of good and bad don't always apply the same between worlds.
But Steve also remembers the Winter last year and the body swap between them and Viatorus and Steve knows something truthfully that he'd never waver on.
"We might not always agree on what's right, but you've got a good heart. I don't hold you any ill will from last Winter, and the whole body swap thing brought all three of us closer together. I don't regret a minute of it."
no subject
A good heart.
His brows come together and his eyes slip away into deep and distant thoughts. It doesn't feel right to let Steve keep believing that... But he isn't sure he has the strength to confront it. He has to skirt the issue, distract from it with a vague nod. There are other things to discuss.
"It did bring us together," he mumbles absently. "I learned a lot about myself. And about you, too. You're a real strong guy, you know that? You put up with a lot more than I ever had to, and you're... You're so much braver about it than I ever could'a been. There's somethin' special about what you're made of, Steve. I just... I ain't sure I'm smart enough to say it right. Maybe it ain't even somethin' you can describe. It's like an aura, man. Like an aura of confidence, determination. It's..."
Something brings a little smile back to his face then. He reaches out and gently returns that poke to Steve's heart. "It's this."
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Steve shrugs at Harrowheart even as his friend is poking him back in the chest. It's not right to think of himself as anything special. He didn't even get to pull his own weight like others were doing. "Maybe there's something in the water there."
The joke covers up how much he misses his home. The life he could have had.
He has to remember what this place has given him. The friends, the knowledge, the opportunities he never had. Steve isn't wanting for a roof over his head here. He gets by. Is sick less often.
"Meetin' you guys has been the best thing that's happened to me." He admits quietly. "Thanks for being around, Harrow."
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He glances toward the gifts he'd given, then turns back to Steve. "But enough of that sappy shit. I think you mentioned gifts earlier?" He bounces his eyebrows as a smile creeps across his face.
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Steve gives his own presents one last extremely touched look while he scrambles to get to his feet and wander over to the little artificial tree he'd decorated for the holiday. The Shieldon gets up from where she'd been dozing and noses two of the packages from the modest pile over to Steve as he approaches and gets a fond headrub for helping a guy out.
"Thanks. Sorry I woke you." He murmurs before carrying both packages over to Harrow.
"Okay so...I made you your gift a while ago but I was shopping the other day and found something I pretty much had to get you."
He hands Harrow the smaller of the two gifts first with a nervous chuckle. Truly a marijuana pipe has never been more tastefully wrapped. It's in it's own little white and gold Christmas box underneath the brown craft paper Steve wraps all of his gifts in, sitting in a pile of snow white tissue paper.
The second present is rectangular and rather thin. Underneath the wrapping is a framed picture done in charcoal of Harrowheart with Viatorus and Steve on either side of him wrapped into a group hug. Steve made sure to capture Harrow's big farm boy grin, the slightly nervous tilt of Viatorus' eyebrows at the physical contact despite clearly happy to be among friends, and his own bony hand gripping the back of Harrowheart's as Steve tries to return the gesture as best he can from the position he's in.
"Merry Christmas, Harrow."
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And even though he expected what it would be, he didn't expect this. So much of it is overwhelming. He looks it over inch by inch, his lips parting and his eyebrows twitching as he notices new details here and there. Now and then he steals glances Steve's way, smiling uncertainly as if it's hard to believe that this is his and he gets to keep it.
Eventually he touches it against his better judgement, but the charcoal is safely sealed and isn't damaged in the slightest by the brush of his fingertips. That's when he finally smiles and turns to Steve for good this time.
"I – I don't know what to say, man. It's... I mean, it's gorgeous! You did such a good job, everyone looks..." He glances back at the art and laughs quietly. "Like ourselves." Facing Steve once more he excitedly says, "I've never had art of my own! Shoot, I need someplace to hang it now. I hope Naugus don't mind if I put it up in his castle a while. Hell, I'm gonna be lookin' at this forever..."
And, indeed, he gets back to looking at it. The joy of art is one which never ends, but is periodically revisited.
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"I thought you'd like that."
It's a wry smile he gives Harrow, but it's one that turns softer when Harrow opens the picture. Steve spent a lot of time thinking about what he was grateful for this year, and the friendship he has with these two stood out above and beyond. He's wanted to draw something like this for a while. Hopes Harrow understands how much their friendship means to Steve.
"Well, it'll last for a while hanging up somewhere, not to worry."