It was nearing the snowy, expensive holiday, also known as Christmas.

You feel yourself get dragged to some unknown place by a few soldiers. Before you could ask what they were doing, you were pushed towards a very confused looking Graves.

You open your mouth to talk but is quickly cut off by the feeling of something brushing against your head. When you look up your gaze lands on mistletoe.

“Those little…” Graves says under his breath as he sees it. You notice a red hue has filled his face.