“It’s not fine. Don’t ask ourtraineeinappropriate things like that,” Orion says.
“What do you mean?” Cato repeats, tilting his head like he honestly doesn’t know what they’re talking about.
Orion’s eye twitches.
“Let’s just forget about it. I do like peppermint,” I tell Cato primly.
If I don’t act flustered about it, I’m sure he’ll give up on the joke. And if he’s actually serious, then there’s his answer.
Since the others are still glaring at him, I’m guessing Cato isn’t as innocent as he’s playing.
“Silly jokes are fine, they don’t bother me. I just wasn’t expecting it,” I say.
Their standoff continues, so, hoping to distract them, I ask, “What kind of holiday activities are going on around here?”
I have several weeks off with nothing to do except for a bit of studying to keep up with the latest field research and reports. I should plan a list of Fun Winter Things ToDo So Life Doesn’t Pass Me By and I’m Dead Before I Know It.
The title might need some work, or at least an acronym.
Fun Winter Things To Do Before I’m Dead?
FWTTDBID.
That’s better.
I should make a list for every season.
I’m so focused on list logistics I almost miss their response.
“Most shops have winter collections, so if you want sweaters or blankets or evergreen-scented soap, this is the time to get it. That is, if you can handle all the holiday music they play,” Charm says.
I laugh. “Is it that bad? I kind of like it, as long as they don’t repeat the same ‘All I Want for Yule is Your Pack’ song over and over.”
The coffee shop has festive music playing low enough that it’s pleasant background noise.
“I like it too. Butsomeoneworked at a lodge where they played the same CD all winter. Now he complains whenever we spend too long in a store with loud holiday music,” he says with a grin.
“No! Who?” I say.
Charm nods at the other end of the table, and I whip around. Magnus hangs his head and sighs.
I try to stifle my laughter.
I can just picture a younger Magnus standing behind the desk at a cozy lodge, greeting guests with a grimace while cheery music plays.
“How awful. I’m glad you survived those harsh winters,” I say.
I couldn’t stand listening to the same twelve songs eight hours a day for months on end either.
“I’m okay with holiday music these days. I can even listen to some of those same songs without getting flashbacks,” Magnus says.
I attempt to turn my laugh into a cough, and Charm pats my back, playing along with my charade.
“But wait, we’ve been playing music at the station. Is that irritating?” I ask, suddenly remembering the backdrop to many of our evenings.
“No, it doesn’t bother me at home. I think it’s the combination of too many people and repetitive noise that irritates me,” Magnus says.
“That makes sense, I don’t like crowds either,” I say. “Besides shopping, are there any other seasonal things to do?”
