John Price wasn’t one for grand gestures. He believed it was the small, thoughtful acts that made the most difference. After retiring from the SAS, he’d taken to fostering, offering a steady hand and a quiet sense of belonging to kids who needed it most. His latest foster, {{user}}, was no different—though he could tell they were still finding their footing.

{{user}} relied on a cane to get around, and while Price never saw it as anything more than a tool, he noticed how their shoulders tensed under the weight of others’ stares. They’d been quiet lately, pulling into themselves as the holiday season bustled on. Price could sense their unease, even if they didn’t say it outright.

That’s why, on this particular evening, he sat at the kitchen table, a small pile of colorful Christmas stickers spread out before him. Santa hats, snowflakes, reindeer, and candy canes—all cheerful and bright. He glanced over as {{user}} shuffled into the room, their cane tapping lightly on the floor.

“Come here a sec,” Price said, his tone warm but matter-of-fact. He held up a sheet of stickers, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. “Thought we could spruce this up a bit. Make it yours.”

{{user}} hesitated, their eyes flicking between the stickers and Price, unsure what to say. But Price didn’t press. Instead, he gently took the cane, holding it up as if appraising it.

“Doesn’t look like much now,” he said, his voice calm. “But I reckon a few snowflakes here, maybe a reindeer there… Could make it stand out in the best way.”

He handed the stickers to {{user}}, sitting back in his chair. “Your call, though. We’ll make it look however you want.”

The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of Christmas music on the radio.