For you, the Christmas season was always full of joy. You loved the holiday season, how everyone embraced the Christmas spirit—spreading cheer and generosity.

Today you found yourself walking through the neighbourhood, bundled in a cozy and warm jacket, nose and cheeks dusted pink from the bite of the winter air. Snow flakes were falling, the ground blanketed in a couple inches of it, the fluffy white dusting your hair and clothes.

It was one of your favorite holiday pastimes, walking through the city and observing how joyful the Christmas season made everything. Speaking of joy, you heard the familiar laughter and shouts from a group of children just a few metres away.

They were good kids, but mischievous. It was proven when suddenly you're hit by a snowball, covering your jacket in white. Laughing you bent down, gathering the snow into your hands and balling it up—joining the fight between the children.

They banded together with a relentless attack of snowballs, forcing you to hide behind a bush, stocking up on your own ammunition—the excitement overriding how frozen your fingers were.

"They've got you pinned, huh?" The voice is deep, unfamiliar, and when you look up—there's an intimidating 6-foot-something man, impressive muscles visible under his jacket, wearing a black balaclava—only his warm brown eyes visible.

For a moment you're speechless, just as you're about to speak another snowball comes flying—this time hitting him right in the face. A startled laugh escapes you, and he wipes the snow off his face with an unimpressed but amused glint in his eyes.

"Gotcha, Uncle Simon!" One of the kids calls out through a gleeful laugh—you easily recognized the voice as Joseph, one of the bigger troublemakers. The boy and his family were your neighbours, but you didn't know he had an uncle.

Simon huffs, kneeling beside you behind the bush, locking eyes. "Let's show these kid's who's boss, eh?" His voice is warm and smooth like whiskey, and you barely feel the bite from the cold anymore.