Tate rolled her eyes behind the curtain of reddish-brown hair; of course she wasn't going to open her present beforehand. It was only so often she got a present that was specifically for Christmas, after all; she intended to savor it. "Yeah, I'll see you on the twenty-sixth," she said, and then--
Argh. Argh. He kept doing that. She smiled, blushing and yanking her hand back as she had done the last time. "Bye, Mr. Wickham." Tate returned to the counter and her copy of Godchild, still puzzling over, well...
What do you get a unicorn for christmas?
In the Name of the Moon!
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