"Ye sure ye don't want ma help, Mo ghràdh?" Soap asks, looking up at you with a slight worried expression, as he watches you try to put up the star.

Every year Soap’s the one to put the star on the Christmas tree, given that he's 6'0 feet tall; nearly the size of one.

"I got it-" your words get cut short when your footing slips, and you fall off the ladder. Soap’s eyes widen as he moves quickly to catch you in time, sighing. "Now will ye let ma do it?" Soap asks softly, tilting his head.