[ He's shocked into temporary silence, which is honestly the highest compliment Gilgamesh could receive. It's a gorgeous gift, and it strikes at everything he likes, both privately (fine grooming tools) and openly (phoenixes).
He runs his fingers over the shimmering feathers, saying nothing, his eyes wide, his lips slightly parted. It's not in his nature to become overly attached to physical objects, but when they're given as gifts, when they're made by hand, with thought and care ... it's clear that he already cherishes this.
Finally, he manages, his voice a little rough and hoarse. ]
It's ... it's truly special, Gil.
[ He presses the comb to his cheek, not even minding the teeth. ]
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He runs his fingers over the shimmering feathers, saying nothing, his eyes wide, his lips slightly parted. It's not in his nature to become overly attached to physical objects, but when they're given as gifts, when they're made by hand, with thought and care ... it's clear that he already cherishes this.
Finally, he manages, his voice a little rough and hoarse. ]
It's ... it's truly special, Gil.
[ He presses the comb to his cheek, not even minding the teeth. ]
I won't ever let it go.