"If you get me socks for Christmas, I'll never speak to you again," he teases, nudging her foot with his own under the covers. "Unless they're like, dino socks. I'm down with dino socks." He chews on his bottom lip at the thought of Christmas and gifts and good ideas because he has no clue what to get for anyone. He has a ton more friends here in Darrow than he'd had in Hong Kong--where he'd had exactly two, Hermann and Tendo, and even then, it'd been kind of hard to celebrate and think hard on gifts when the fate of the world rested on their shoulders--so he's not used to having to come up with this stuff anymore.

He wants to get her something awesome even though she could give him a goddamn grain of sand from the beach and he'd be overjoyed because like, sentiment or something. He turns his head to brush his lips over the fingers on his shoulder and gives a quiet sigh. "It's going to be so different," he comments and if he sounds a little far away, it's because he is. "Actually having people to celebrate with this year? I've missed it."