The simplest things make him happy. This is one, clearly, as he ducks his chin a little and smiles in relief, and in the very basic joy of having someone care. "Thanks," he says simply, for even right now it's hard to form the concepts of warmth and companionship into words.
"Now, let's see," he says as he refocuses his attention on the plush prizes. "What's a good Will animal? A penguin? They look proud. Or... Is that supposed to be a lion back there?"
This is not intended to be accurate commentary on what animal represents Will, of course - the selection is limited to the familiar sort of creatures that probably are not found out in space, as well as a few with some unusual twists, like the spirits found damaged toys from residents long-gone and attempted some wild surgery to patch the holes. So the "lion" is really just the large tawny catlike head on the body of what might be a gorilla with snakes for arms.
"You know what, I like that one. Looks like a challenge," he decides. He flexes his wrist with the ring in hand to try and gauge how it might fly, then gives it a toss. The ring is flimsy and lightweight - intentionally made not to fly perfectly straight, for how would this be a good carnival game if it was as easy as it looks? - but the force with which it's thrown seems to help reduce the wobble. The lion's head is a little too large for the ring to settle around entirely, but it snags on an ear, and manages to hang there without falling.
The attendant carnie spirit, something lemur-like with a long grassy mask that might itself resemble something maned, hoots and whistles and claps. As it swings its way arm over arm across the ceiling of the booth toward the not-lion, Rosinante turns to Will with a shrug and a half-smile. "I guess I- just..."
He starts, and stops quickly, practically biting his own tongue to keep it from derailing what he wanted to say. He's trying to be cool and smooth and casual and now is not the time to blurt out stupid things about how he likes being here with him. But fighting it gets harder and harder.
"You - want to try?" he manages instead, and offers Will a ring.
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"Now, let's see," he says as he refocuses his attention on the plush prizes. "What's a good Will animal? A penguin? They look proud. Or... Is that supposed to be a lion back there?"
This is not intended to be accurate commentary on what animal represents Will, of course - the selection is limited to the familiar sort of creatures that probably are not found out in space, as well as a few with some unusual twists, like the spirits found damaged toys from residents long-gone and attempted some wild surgery to patch the holes. So the "lion" is really just the large tawny catlike head on the body of what might be a gorilla with snakes for arms.
"You know what, I like that one. Looks like a challenge," he decides. He flexes his wrist with the ring in hand to try and gauge how it might fly, then gives it a toss. The ring is flimsy and lightweight - intentionally made not to fly perfectly straight, for how would this be a good carnival game if it was as easy as it looks? - but the force with which it's thrown seems to help reduce the wobble. The lion's head is a little too large for the ring to settle around entirely, but it snags on an ear, and manages to hang there without falling.
The attendant carnie spirit, something lemur-like with a long grassy mask that might itself resemble something maned, hoots and whistles and claps. As it swings its way arm over arm across the ceiling of the booth toward the not-lion, Rosinante turns to Will with a shrug and a half-smile. "I guess I- just..."
He starts, and stops quickly, practically biting his own tongue to keep it from derailing what he wanted to say. He's trying to be cool and smooth and casual and now is not the time to blurt out stupid things about how he likes being here with him. But fighting it gets harder and harder.
"You - want to try?" he manages instead, and offers Will a ring.