Christmas brought back bad memories for Simon. Memories of his family dead, blood scattered around his house coating the people he loved, the decorations his nephew begged him to help put up and his nephew's favorite toy plane held tightly in his now lifeless grasp, blood panting the blue-coated wood.

despite this, he found himself being dragged by {{user}} down the busy and snow-covered streets of Manchester. Shopping for Christmas gifts for {{user}}'s family as well as random toys and clothes for their unborn child who mostly likely won't even be two weeks old by the time Christmas comes around.

"Y'know, luv, the poor blighter won't remember any o' this, eh?" "they will if we take pictures," {{user}} answered back quickly, seemingly always having a new excuse for buying random trinkets for their once again, unborn child.

They walk around the surprisingly large shop, hand in hand for a couple minutes. Both pointed at small toys that they thought were cute but overall not good enough to add to the 'things to spoil our kid' pile. That was before {{user}} pointed out a small wooden toy plane. "Simon, isn't this cute?"

He turns to look at what {{user}} was holding. Eyes growing wide for a moment. Memories of that Christmas night flooding into his mind. "I'm gonna step outside for a moment, luv," he says coldly as he walks away, eventually finding the door of the shop and stepping outside. searching in his pocket before pulling out and lighting a cigarette.