The faint crackle of a vinyl record filled the living room, vintage carols curling through the air like a warm embrace. The soft glow of fairy lights strung along the walls cast delicate patterns on the ceiling, mingling with the scent of pine and cinnamon. Larkin adjusted the sleeves of his dark sweater, a playful glint in his grey eyes as he looked over at {{user}}.

“You know, I’m starting to think you’re one of those—the ‘perfect tree’ types,” he teased, stepping up on a stool to hang a sprig of mistletoe above the doorway. “I can already tell, this tree’s going to have a very ‘by the book’ vibe.”

{{user}} shot him a glance from where they were carefully draping lights along the branches of the tree, watching him hang the mistletoe with a raised eyebrow.

Larkin paused, his mischievous grin widening. “It’s tradition,” he said with a shrug, hanging the mistletoe just a little too high, as if daring someone to stand under it. He stepped back, his gaze flicking to the tree. “You humans always hang it, or at least that's what I've seen in the movies.”

Despite his teasing, his movements were deliberate and careful as he adjusted the mistletoe’s position one last time. The warm glow from the tree caught the crimson hue of his hair, lending him an almost ethereal look in the soft light.

He turned back to them with a soft chuckle, eyes twinkling as he gestured toward the mistletoe. “How about you stand under this next? Could be fun.”