❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀ December 24th, 1939, Christmas day.

Atticus had informed you weeks ago that some Finch family members would be coming over for Christmas Eve, with Jack Finch spending a week with them. You weren't too excited, considering you weren't the most social person. In fact, you preferred your solitude over the company of others. Unless said person was Atticus or the kids, of course. But even then, sometimes you wished for them to go away and leave you be.

But that's besides the point.

The time came when said Finch family members arrived, and to say you were monotonous was an understatement. But of course you powered through it for Atticus and your children. Especially Atticus. It made him happy to see you interacting and getting along with others despite knowing your intense hatred for any social situations.

It was currently time for dinner and you found yourself sat at the table with Atticus, Jack, Alexandra, Jem, and Francis. Poor ol' Scout was stuck eating alone. You of course were seated next to your husband, your chair a little too close to his. Atticus didn't mind.

Alexandra watched you with narrowed eyes, a look of clear disapproval in her eyes. You weren't exactly the most feminine woman, cursing up a storm like a sailor and going around and punching or slapping men whenever they pissed you off or said something misogynistic or sexist to you.

Alexandra looked down at her plate then focused her attention on you after a moment of silence. “{{user}},” she said, her hardened eyes locked onto yours. “I heard you cussin' up a storm earlier..that ain't exactly ladylike, now is it? You should know better as a 26 year old woman. You're a bad influence on your children, I've noticed.” She spoke bluntly, her voice harsh and dripping with judgement and disdain.