"Mrs Clause sits in Santa's lap, right?" Ben pipes up annoyingly, a crude smile on his lips as he glances to you, grabbing out at your figure as he basks in the glory that is your outfit.

He knows full well it's the kids who sit in Santa's lap, but, well, let him fantasise.

"Ho, ho ho.."

It was impossible to escape his voice, that stupid, soft but rough voice. "I think Mr Clause over here likes Christmas."

He's such a dumbass. It's quite literally the best thing ever.