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Ichabod has never been particularly enamored of Christmas, which seems to be a larger-scaled affair in the hotel than he had ever experienced in his own Sleepy Hollow of two centuries prior. There were decorations aplenty, including the very German tradition of erecting a large fir tree in the midst of one's home and decorating it with little tokens and trifles. Ichabod thought this served only to get sap all over one's floors but it seems to have stuck with the people of the modern era, judging by the tree currently taking up residence in the entry hall.

A trip outside to see the gardens provides a bit of a respite from all the frippery of Christmas decorations and after a lengthy walk and a good amount of fresh air, Ichabod feels he is prepared enough to endure the onslaught once again. One of the things he recognizes upon entering is mistletoe, that bane of pretty housemaids everywhere, and he stifles a chuckle. He is not be getting caught unawares beneath it, vile weed, and pities anyone who does.

He supposes that he would be less melancholy if he had someone to indulge him in these holiday traditions, be that his beloved Katrina or even the company of Lieutenant Mills but the hotel provides no such company for him. He only knows Miss Smoak, charming girl that she is, and it is hard to feel festive and full of good cheer when he's so alone.

Still, he has enough coin to purchase a drink and he does, a thick dark ale that is the closest approximation to beer from back in his own era. It's not quite the same, but it will suffice, and hopefully it will bring warmth to his limbs and lightness to his heart.

[[Find Ichabod at the bar, being surly about Christmas.]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"There is always some larger matter," Ichabod says, completely empathizing.

"I suppose one must be careful not to lose oneself in pursuit of the mission."

That startled a snort out of Felicity. "Maybe I should have you talk to Oliver? Losing himself in his mission, as you call it, is almost Greek with the amount of fatal flawness he's got going on."

"I am guilty of it myself. I can only speak to that which I feel I must atone for," Ichabod admits softly.

"Which is very Greek of me, is it not?"

"We've got so much Greek around here, I'm starting to crave Gyros," Felicity smiled back. For all his Ren Faire and old speech patterns, the guy charmed her.

"Gyros? I am not familiar, though the word clearly has a Greek root. Gyros...to spin, I think. Possibly." Ichabod says, racking his brain to come up with the answer. His Greek was very good but limited mostly to Biblical translations of late.

"I have completely missed the mark, haven't I?"

"Not completely, and not by much now that I think about it," Felicity smiled good-naturedly and gave his hand a little squeeze on the bar. "A gyros is a kind of sandwich made in Greek delis or restaurants. Lamb meat is layered and roasted on an upright spit, then sliced into pita bread with vegetables."

She took up a pencil from the bar and made a quick sketch of the device.

"Clever," Ichabod says, tracing over her drawing. "And sounds delicious, now that you mention it. Have you ever been faced with a craving you are unable to slake? It is one of the worst feelings, knowing there is nothing you can do about it."

"I think that's why they call them cravings," Felicity pointed out, but she was nodding the whole time. "And yes, I have. When I was in college I used to dream about my mother's potato salad, of all things."

"I think you have given me one with your talk of gyros," Ichabod says, grinning at her.

"It is a terrible predicament."

"Maybe not," Felicity thought. "You know, there are doors all over this place that lead to some interesting places. It might not be home, but one of them has got to lead somewhere with a Greek deli."

"Would you care to escort me on a mission to find out?" Ichabod asks, tone light and hopeful.

He has not had many friends since waking up 250 years out of time and the few he had have not arrived here. Miss Smoak is the closest.

Felicity thought about it, even wondered for a second if she shouldn't tell Oliver where she was going. In the end, she just nodded her head at Ichabod and pushed out thoughts of Oliver. He didn't go around clearing his whereabouts with her, she wasn't about to clear hers.

"That sounds like an excellent idea."

"Well, I shall allow you to lead the way. You are obviously more informed as to what we are looking for and an intelligent man always defers to those who are wiser," Ichabod says, grinning at her.

"I have no problems doing such in your case, Miss Smoak, for I fear you may be more intelligent than me in a great many areas. You have shown nothing but cleverness since we arrived."

"So we're back to opening random doors in hopes they lead us where we want to go," Felicity smiled back. "Didn't we just get off this train?"

"It seems we have arrived back on it. Still, I hope for more success now," he says, dipping his head in deference.

"Lead the way?"