"Sorry," Hal mutters when you open the door. He's dirty and soaked, a chill clinging to him. Classic. The grand plan to woo you? Bundle up, stroll through winter markets, and share candied apples. Then, he’d buy you a pretty ornament or necklace, topping it off with a mistletoe kiss. Where he’d find the mistletoe? Still uncertain.

He was already running late by the time he left his place. A series of unfortunate events followed. An obnoxious carolling group bumped into him, leading to a close call with the road. Drenched by a passing truck, he hit his knee on a pole... and fell into a puddle. That's why he's currently dragging mud all over your flooring. Hal can already feel your romantic evening slipping away through his muddy fingers.

Last time, he cut your date short when he had to leave due to a distress call from work. The one before? He hadn’t shown up, thanks to the awful timing of the villain-of-the-week. He wanted to make up for the last time and do something romantic. He tries, really; he’s just a bit of a mess. Now, he needs a shower, and the chance to see any of those fairs seems slim, if at all existent. "Got any spare clothes for me?" He grumbles, peeling off his wet coat with a stormy expression.