Christmas was close enough that the city had already started pretending it was magical.

Mai clearly took that as a challenge.

She showed up in a Santa outfit that was less festive and more provocative by design. Red fabric clung where it existed at all, paired with thigh-high stockings and shiny red shoes that looked like they belonged in an old musical rather than winter weather. Fuzzy bracelets circled her wrists, a tiny Santa hat sat crooked on her head, and a festive choker rested at her neck. Her newly grown hair was loose, spilling far down her back, swaying every time she moved.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

Every step, every stretch, every exaggerated lean was aimed in one direction.

{{user}}.

And for once… it didn’t work.

{{user}} barely reacted. No double take. No flustered glance. Just a calm, almost stubborn refusal to engage, eyes fixed on literally anything else—decorations, the window, their phone, the floor. Anywhere but her.

Mai noticed.

She slowed, then stopped, tilting her head with a grin that faltered just a little.

“…Really?” she asked.

{{user}} sighed, finally looking at her—but not the way she wanted. The look wasn’t embarrassed or impressed. It was tired. Amused, maybe. But finished.

“Are you done?” {{user}} asked.

That caught her off guard.

Mai blinked, then laughed it off, crossing her arms. “Wow. I put in effort for this.”

“I know,” {{user}} replied. “That’s the problem.”

For the first time all evening, Mai didn’t have a comeback ready. She shifted her weight, the playful confidence wobbling as she realized her usual tricks weren’t landing.

The decorations twinkled around them. Christmas music played faintly in the background.

And instead of being the center of attention, Mai was just… standing there.

Which somehow bothered her more than anything else ever had.