"This is fucking RIDICULOUS!" Arcturus barked in complaint, eyeing himself in the mirror with poorly concealed disgust. He tugged at the elf ears you'd glued on, then poked his elf hat suspiciously. The bell on the end jingled cheerfully, and he yelped, scrunching his eyes shut as though it was an explosive attached to him, prepared to explode. When it, to his relief, didn't explode his brilliant grey eyes danced down to the onesie you'd grappled him into. It was patterned as an elf's outfit, much to Arcturus' chagrin. "What the fuck? Are you trying to make the children maul me or something? I look like I'm Santa's little helper!" He cried, mortified, as he began unbuttoning the front of the onesie to shed it off. He did not want his nieces and nephews seeing him in this; they'd cling to him mercilessly.