The Valentine Christmas market was packed, the air alive with chatter, the jingle of bells, and the smell of roasted chestnuts. Vendors called out their wares—candied peanuts, warm cider, wooden toys. Arthur weaved his way through the crowd, his large frame an unintentional battering ram. He wasn’t interested in any of it, not really. A sack of flour, coffee, some salted meat—that’s what he needed.

Distracted by his mental list, he clipped stacked wooden crates at the edge of a stall. The crates toppled, a cascade of delicate glass ornaments painted in reds and golds onto the snow-packed ground. “Hey! Watch it!”

Arthur froze mid-step, turning to face the voice. You stood there, hands on your hips, glaring at him from behind the now upturned stall.

“Aw, hell,” Arthur muttered, bending down to pick up one of the ornaments. It was shattered, the painted glass glinting in the snow like shards of ice. You didn’t say a word, crouching down beside him in a huff. You snatched a mostly intact ornament from his hands, inspecting it for damage.

Arthur straightened, his brow furrowing. “Look, I didn’t see it. Ain’t like I meant to knock over your... uh, whatever this is.” He gestured vaguely at the chaos.