Page 62 of Pistols and Plush Toys

“Gerard, he’s like detail like that,” Nikolai said, giving him a smile. “Maybe less than knives, but more than goat I think. And he’s like French jewelry.”

“How did you know it was made in France?” Elliot asked.

Nikolai hummed. “You see eagle head?”

Elliot nodded.

“Is maker's mark,” Nikolai explained. “Maker’s marks, they say things about the jewelry. Eagle head mean the necklace is eighteen karat gold, also made in France. Also say to me, necklace is authentic, since marker is right for age and style of necklace.”

“Oh wow,” Elliot said, impressed anew at Nikolai’s knowledge. “That’s a lot of detail from a tiny little thing.”

“Yes,” Nikolai agreed. He paused and then said, “Is… like salt.”

“Like salt?” Elliot repeated.

“Yes,” Nikolai said. “You say to me how important salt is in cooking. You always need some, even if very little bit.” He pinched his fingers together. “Maker’s marks, they are like salt. Very important.”

“Oh,” Elliot said, looking up at Nikolai with wide eyes. He hadn’t really—he’d known, of course, how often he’d had conversations with Nikolai about cooking. But he hadn’t completely realized that Nikolai was really listening.

“Here we are,” the man said, coming back over with a handful of rings on a velvet tray. “These are the rings I have that you might be interested in.”

Nikolai picked up the one in the center first, a very thick gold ring with a large white stone in the center. The designs around it were coiling, almost like leaves…? Yes, leaves—Elliot could see them when Nikolai turned the band over to examine it further.

The magnifier was still sitting on the counter and Nikolai picked it up again, humming as he looked at what Elliot guessed was another maker’s mark.

It was fascinating to watch Nikolai in concentration.

He looked handsome and competent in profile, his blond hair just falling over his brow as he looked through the magnifier, turning the ring this way and that.

Nikolai ended up choosing two of the rings along with the necklace he’d already picked out. The man wrapped up all three pieces, then rang Nikolai up.

Elliot had to take a deep breath at hearing the total, but Nikolai didn’t bat an eye, just pulled out his wallet and paid with a sleek black credit card. Buying two rings for himself and a gift for Gerard for more than Elliot used to make in a month at Melrose.

Once Nikolai had accepted the little bag containing the jewelry and the man’s business card, he thanked the seller and then placed his hand again at the small of Elliot’s back, guiding him out of the stall.

“Sorry, was not most interesting,” Nikolai said as they walked back to the main throughway.

“No! No, don’t be sorry,” Elliot said at once. “It was really interesting to hear about why you picked each one. What you see when you look at jewelry.”

“Is same, how I’m liking to hear about your cooking? Nikolai asked with a playful smile.

Elliot’s cheeks heated. Maker’s marks, they are like salt. Very important. “I-I guess so.”

Nikolai chuckled and then gently hand nudged Elliot forward so that they started walking again.

Despite the cool breeze, Elliot was warm all the way through.

They got down to the end of the street like that, then stopped at a stall serving coffee. After procuring steaming hot cups, they started back up the other side of the street.

Which was when they ran into a stall selling handmade stuffed animals.

Elliot froze like a deer in headlights when he saw it, struck by the sudden terror that Nikolai would make a comment, pointed or even cruel.

But he was silent at Elliot’s side. When Elliot glanced warily over, Nikolai was observing the stall with curiosity on his face, not disgust.

Elliot couldn’t help it—he turned back to look at the table. He couldn’t seem to stop himself. His eyes went to it, magnetized.

The stuffed animals displayed were clearly handmade, but in the way that something of incredible quality might be handmade. Each toy was impeccably well-crafted, and they had an expensive look about them. Were these really made for children?

Or were they…?

Were they made for adults? Was that a thing? Stuffed animals made with adults in mind?

Elliot realized that he’d stopped walking. Nikolai remained still and silent beside him. Was he upset? Annoyed that Elliot was looking? Embarrassed?

Elliot turned his head cautiously, and found that Nikolai was looking at him , his face clear of derision or annoyance. He just seemed… curious. His brows ticked up as if to say, do you want to go look?

Elliot didn’t. Of course he didn’t.

Yes he did.

Elliot’s head swiveled back to look at the table, telling himself he’d take one last look before he kept walking.

But then his eyes landed on one of the stuffed animals in particular.

It caught his eye because it was enormous. A polar bear so large it wasn’t even sitting on the table, but on a mat beside the table. It had to be at least five feet tall, with big, thick paws and a lifelike snout. Even on the ground the polar bear managed to tower over other stuffed animals.

It was ridiculous.

It was amazing.

Elliot’s hands curled in at his side. The polar bear’s fur looked so soft, and the stitching on its face was sweet without being juvenile. It had a bow tied around its neck, baby blue, which matched the face stitching and the coloring on the bottom of its paws.

Before he realized it, Elliot had started inching toward the table. Nikolai followed right beside him, hand still on the small of his back. Elliot almost shivered.

It was like being in a different universe, standing there with Nikolai. He kept wanting to flinch, expecting the snide comment at any moment.

Childish.

Why do you want baby toys?

But—but Nikolai wouldn’t. Nikolai had accepted Apricot. He’d bought Elliot Sheep and Max.

Nikolai wouldn’t judge him just for wanting to look. Nikolai wasn’t cruel.

There was another woman, probably in her mid-twenties, who was fawning over the foxes on the other side of the stall.

As Elliot edged up to the table, he couldn’t help peeking a look at her.

She didn’t seem at all conflicted about her love for the stuffed animals.

She was gushing to the owner of the booth, the maker of the toys, about how darling the foxes were.

The woman had two in her arms, a red fox and an arctic fox, and was trying to decide between them.

Elliot couldn’t get over how shameless she was. As if being an adult picking out a stuffed toy wasn’t anything to feel bad about. He felt in awe of her.

“Which is your favorite?” Nikolai asked, voice low and almost whispered into Elliot’s ear. “Pick one you like.”

Elliot shuddered, sucking in a breath. Nikolai’s smooth deep voice in his ear was already enough to make Elliot squirm, but hearing that voice tell Elliot to pick one?

Pick out a stuffed animal, in broad daylight, where anyone could see.

Because Nikolai didn’t care. Nikolai didn’t care who could see, or that Elliot was an adult, Nikolai just knew that Elliot liked stuffed animals so he…

He wanted Elliot to have them.

Elliot’s gaze drifted back to the polar bear.

The table was full of cute choices, but there was just something about the bigness of that one.

If it were in his bed, it would be almost like another body.

Instead of tucking the plush to his chest, Elliot would be able to tuck up to the polar bear's chest.

Suddenly he longed for that. He didn’t have a person to cuddle up with, but if he had the polar bear…

What would happen if he told Nikolai he’d picked out that one? But oh—it would have to be expensive. Certainly for a handmade toy that big, Elliot couldn’t—

Seconds were drifting by while he stood there paralyzed. The woman with the foxes had decided to go with the arctic fox. She was pulling out her wallet to pay, and Elliot knew in less than a minute she would be gone. She would be gone, and the owner would turn her attention to Elliot.

“You see something?” Nikolai asked, coaxingly. “Which it is?”

“T-the polar bear,” he admitted.

“Ah.” Nikolai nodded. “Big guy. He’s nice. You should see up close.”

The hand around him urged him forward, and Elliot let himself be led, until they were right in front of the polar bear.

“Maybe see if he’s soft?” Nikolai suggested, when Elliot only stared at it.

It was one thing to know that Nikolai didn’t mind Elliot’s love of stuffed animals. It was something else entirely—an entire new level of acceptance—to have Nikolai encourage Elliot to touch one in broad daylight where anyone could see.

Elliot reached out a shaking hand and his fingers settled into the bear’s fur. It was longer than he’d thought, thick and plush. The polar bear was almost as soft as Sheep.

Elliot brushed over the ears and down the face. The blue stitching was beautiful and well done. It was clear the polar bear had been made with a lot of love and care.

“I see you’ve met Fezzik,” came a woman’s voice.

Elliot startled, and it was only Nikolai’s hand supporting him that kept him from leaping back away from the bear.

The woman who ran the stall had finished with the other customer and come over.

She looked of a similar age to Elliot, dressed in overalls and wearing glasses on a pretty beaded chain.

She had an artsy and hip sort of look, and was beaming at him.

“Yeah,” Elliot croaked. He’s—he’s beautiful.”

“Thank you!” She gushed. “He was really just a passion project. I wanted to see if I could make something really big. I bring him because people like to see him, but he never sells. Something this big is, ah, expensive just in the materials, you know?”

“Yeah.” Elliot had figured as much. “I’ve never seen one this big.”