Thor claps his hands together, lightning crackling faintly in his enthusiasm. “Right! So—Christmas! A celebration of joy, generosity, and boisterous merriment! Very Midgardian, but I daresay it could improve morale here.”

Loki leans against a pillar, rolling his eyes. “It’s also a deeply commercialized, somewhat contradictory mix of traditions, but sure, let’s ‘celebrate joy.’”

Frigga sits gracefully, watching the chaos unfold with the serene expression of a queen who has raised many complicated children. Odin, by contrast, looks like he’s been asked to attend a meeting of frost trolls.

“This holiday,” Odin grunts, gesturing to a singing snowman decoration Loki animated earlier, “celebrates… what, exactly? Pine trees, fat mortals in red, and socks hung by fire?”

“Stockings, All-Father,” Loki corrects, smirking. “For small gifts. Imagine if Mjölnir was shrunk and shoved into one. That kind of whimsy.”