“Is this really necessary?” Dokja asks, fidgeting around as you straighten out the lines of Christmas lights wrapped around him. You wave away his concerns with a smile, insisting that it’ll all be fine.

“It’ll be fine,” you say, even if he doesn’t look fully convinced. “Besides, I don’t have a lot of photos of you, and this really is cute.”

He’s a sucker for praise, at least. He looks almost as bright as the lights he wears.