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“So it’s settled!”
Kaede clapped her hands to signify the end of the discussion, pausing to allow the last remnants of conversation to die down. Perched on the table, the class representatives stood at the front of their classroom.
On the blackboard behind them lay many scribbles, some crossed out, some circled and some with strange doodles— courtesy of Angie, who was also standing near the front with chalk-covered hands, swaying happily to an invisible beat.
“Tonight, we’ll all get together for a class dinner and the Secret Santa reveal before starting to study for exams after the weekend. Are there any suggestions?”
Unsurprisingly, Kokichi was the first to reply, jumping on top of the desk as Kaede tried shooing him down in vain.
“Nishishishi… I wanna go to Burger King! I’ve been looking for a replacement for my hat, and it’s only natural that the Ultimate Supreme Leader should wear a crown!”
“So you’re telling me that instead of your leather hat, which is definitely more expensive, you want a crown made of... paper. Right.” Maki deadpans, while Kaito and Himiko snickered on the side.
Kokichi’s purple eyes widened, then his lip began to tremble— the telltale sign of incoming crocodile tears, before a violent elbow to the gut silenced him, sending him crashing to the ground with a thud.
... Not that anyone particularly cared.
“Kyahaha! I bet this little fucker loves getting that meat in his mouth! Well shit, Bakamatsu, why didn’t you ask the gorgeous girl genius, Miu Iruma, earlier? I’ve got some great fuckin’ new inventions that really gets my gears grindin’, and ya don’t even need to cook! Just get the ingredients, shove ‘em in, then bam! Or we could always get some of that sweet eggp— MMPH!”
Kiibo, who had slowly been heating up as the inventor continued to rant, finally had enough and slapped his hand over her mouth before she could finish her sentence.
“Iruma-san! That is incredibly vulgar to suggest during something meant for us to bond over!”
Miu's eyes bug out, clearly enraged at being interrupted, but the robot's iron-reinforced hands prevent her from protesting further.
“Umm sorry Miu, maybe another time… do we have any other suggestions?”
Shuichi gave the rest of the class a frazzled smile, but wide gray irises held a silent plea for another volunteer after the chaos. Meanwhile, the inventor wordlessly flips the bird in response before continuing to struggle against Kiibo.
Rantaro took pity on the detective and spoke up. “Huh… maybe we could just go out to a restaurant? I’d honestly hate to trouble Kirumi with preparing food for so many of us…”
The student in question shook her head.
“That will be of no trouble to me, Amami. I am well-equipped to take on any requests you may have for dinner, and do not hesitate to notify me should you wish to update your preferences. Furthermore, because this is arguably one of the last times our entire class will be together before the holidays, I must insist on cooking for this dinner.”
Kaede throws Kirumi a grateful look. “Aw, thanks Kirumi! We really appreciate it, but if you’re so insistent on preparing dinner tonight, at least let some of us help! Please-- oh hold on. What’s that?”
Looking furtively around, Shuichi tapped Kaede on her shoulder mid-reply, whispering something in her ear. Immediately, an impish smile blooms across the pianist’s face.
“Actually, Shuichi has a better idea— we," she dramatically jabs her finger at the maid, "request that you let us help you!”
Kirumi blinks, then her shoulders rise and fall in a quiet sigh of defeat upon hearing the magic words before conceding with a serene smile.
“... Ah. Very well, if that is what you would like of me.”
Kaede high-fives the detective in response. “Yes! Thank you so much, you won’t regret it, Kirumi!”
“Eh? Gonta want to know why mom suddenly look scared?”
If it were not for Gonta, no one would have noticed the flash of apprehension (one that arguably appeared much more frequently if you were observant) across the maid's face in response to her newest request.
Having seen Kokichi’s mouth twitch in preparation for a snarky response, Ryoma interjects before the Supreme Leader can further fan the flames. “Heh. I don’t blame her. I’d be nervous if I had to entrust my cats with you all.”
In the background, Miu lets out a muffled shout.
“Nyehh… I didn’t even need to use my MP to know what she was actually saying…”
Tenko shoots the inventor a dirty look before enthusiastically waving her hand in the air. “Ooh! Ohoho! Wait! Tenko thinks hot pot would be good! Tenko’s sensei always had hot pot during the winter at the dojo!” Surprisingly, Korekiyo, who has been silently watching on the sidelines for the past hour, speaks up.
“I find myself inclined to agree with Chabashira’s suggestion. Indeed, the concept of hot pot originates from ancient China, as has been thought to date back to the Zhou dynasty, where the first pots were found. Given that traditionally, a single large pot is used, one can imagine that besides efficiency, these meals enhanced bonds as friends and family gathered to sit around at a table as they cooked their food in the pot. This of course, fosters a rather warm atmosphere ripe for conversation, and in conjunction with the weather, hot pot is a rather popular dish during winter, much like our current circumstances; in contemporary times, hot pot has been modernized so that each individual person has their own pot, but using one pot remains the predominant method of consuming hot pot at large gatherings. In fact, we have adopted hot pot into our own palate: shabu-shabu. To have the opportunity to observe this phenomenon among my classmates would be an asset to my personal research and exams... ”
The anthropologist begins to ramble, and save for a few members of the class that are paying rapt attention to his monologue, most of the others murmur among themselves, the majority being noises of satisfaction.
“Alright, sounds like a lot of you like the idea, so let’s take a vote then on the current, um, suggestions. Who wants to have hot pot tonight? Angie, could you please keep track?”
“Nyahaha! But of course, Shuichi~!”
Excluding Kokichi and the still-silenced Miu, everyone else raises their hand for Tenko’s suggestion.
“Sounds like we’ve come to a consensus then for hotpot tonight! Now, who wants to help Kirumi?” Kaede counts the smattering of hands that go up, adding Korekiyo, Tenko, Rantaro, Tsumugi’s, and her own name to the scribbles that decorate the board.
“OOH! I wanna help Mommy and Daddy tonight! Pleeeeease?” Kokichi pipes up again. Despite the innocent Bambi eyes that adorn his face, both Kaede and Kirumi eye him suspiciously before turning to each other. A wordless exchange, and they nod.
Yeah, he's done worse.
“I guess," Kaede begins slowly, "Um, okay. I guess you can. We’ll be able to keep an eye on you if you join us... but you have to promise you won’t cause too much trouble, okay? Shuichi, then do you think you can keep an eye on Secret Santa arrangements for tonight while I help out in the kitchen?”
Kokichi merely grins and sticks his tongue out in response, but doesn’t protest.
Next to him, the detective nods quietly. "Yeah. That sounds good, Kaede."
"FUCKING FINALLY!"
A loud whoop of victory draws their attention to the back of the classroom, revealing Miu, who finally succeeded in wrestling Kiibo’s arm away from her mouth. “First of all Keebs, that was fuckin’ rude and unnecessary as hell, ‘cause I was gonna say eggplant parm earlier! Suck my dick! Second of all, no one appreciates my innovation these days, and I, for one, got my Secret Santa something kickass for DICKmas—”
Kaede jumps in again with a sunny smile, “Hey, um, I’m sure your Secret Santa will really appreciate what you got or made for them, Miu! I definitely know that I would if you got me!”
Miu flushes.
“W-well it’s not like what you think matters to me! I already knew my Secret Santa would appreciate what I have for them, duh!”
Kirumi abruptly stands up from her seat and bows curtly, dusting her apron off.
“If you will excuse my interruption of your banter, I will require time alone to prepare for this evening, and should leave promptly if I am to complete everything on time. For those of you who will be assisting me, please arrive in the kitchen at about five o’clock this afternoon, and I will delegate the tasks to ensure optimal... efficiency. Akamatsu, Saihara, thank you for leading the discussion. I have taken the liberty of noting your preferences for dinner. I look forward to seeing everyone tonight.”
As she speaks, she lets her gaze rest on Kokichi, then Korekiyo for a fraction of a second before exiting the classroom.
Tsumugi shifts in her seat slightly, tugging at her uniform’s collar. “Um, I plainly have to go as well, since I’m waiting on something time-sensitive for my Secret Santa to finish soon, and I should go check on it… oh! That reminds me, I just got a limited edition DVD version of Howl’s Moving Castle, and that made me wonder if we could maybe have a movie night after the exchange… if anyone would even be interested in the suggestions of a plain background character like me?”
“No, no, don’t say that, that’s a great idea, and I thought that movie was super cute the last time we watched it together, Tsumugi! Although I think since everyone’s getting a little antsy, you can just text me your ideas or we can finalize the plans together in the afternoon before we all meet up in the kitchen, how does that sound?”
Upon getting the cosplayer’s confirmation, Kaede gives a thumbs up.
“Alright then, meeting adjourned! Thank you all for your input and attendance; I’ll see everyone either at five or at dinner!”
Chop.
Chop.
Chop.
Upon walking into the kitchen fifteen minutes prior to the arranged time (he always prided himself on always arriving early,) the Ultimate Anthropologist is greeted by the sound of a knife slicing into what he presumed was one of the ingredients for dinner. Drawing closer, he settles to lean against the wall a few feet away from the source of the sound. A glance at the figure in the corner confirmed his suspicions, as neat mounds of various vegetables surround them.
He notes the presence of tonghao, bok choy, enoki and button mushrooms, taro, and Napa cabbage.
All very fine classic staples.
“Good afternoon, Tojo.”
She doesn't say anything for a moment.
Finally, a metallic clank as the knife is set down. Kirumi turns around, usual polite smile on her face and hands clasped together.
“A good afternoon to you as well, Shinguji. You are early.”
His eyes crinkle.
“Indeed I am. I merely wished to watch the Ultimate Maid in action by herself— my sincerest compliments to your steadfast work ethic. Your dedication to your duties is unlike anything I have had the privilege of seeing.”
She bows, and he sees the smile on her face widen slightly upon the praise.
“I am simply doing as any maid worth their salt would do. But I thank you for your kind words. Seeing as the others have not arrived yet, is there anything else you wish to discuss with me? Perhaps you wish to notify me of any suggestions you have for dinner? Surely you are knowledgeable in the many different ways hotpot is eaten across the world so that I may satisfy the preferences of all our classmates.”
Kirumi briefly turns her attention back to the vegetables, deftly cutting up the remainder and setting them neatly onto clean bowls on the turntable. Next to them are round sectioned plates filled to the brim with other hot pot ingredients: thinly sliced cuts of meat, fish tofu, meatballs, rice cakes, and fried tofu are among the ones he recognizes. A myriad of sauces have been neatly set aside, and the anthropologist finds himself piqued by their curious contents.
This will certainly be a memorable meal.
He rests a finger to his lips thoughtfully.
“I believe what you have in mind for ingredients will be sufficient— there, I defer to your professional judgement. However, if you insist, I would suggest using a yuanyangguo, a pot with a divider to accommodate those with varying flavor preferences. Traditionally, heavily flavored Sichuan pepper málà broths from Chongqing are quite popular for the warmth they bring, as are mild herbal broths that allow one to focus on the flavors from both vegetables and meat. Personally, I am quite fond of the herbal broths. However, recently, new flavors have surfaced, such as those with milk bases, miso soup, and much more... ”
Kiyo's voice trails off.
In turn, Kirumi nods curtly and immediately opens a cabinet, revealing neatly stacked metal pots and pans.
“Understood. I will prepare a large pot accordingly given the flavor preferences of the class that I have recorded earlier,” she flips through the notepad, “and it appears that I will require a pot with two dividers so that there is room for three flavors: málà, herbal, and miso. It may be worth consulting with Hanamura-san or Iruma in regards to this, as I am unsure whether the academy kitchens have a pot of that size that can serve sixteen students.”
“Kehehe. Dear me… in the name of Yonaga’s god, I should hope that if you contact Iruma that your ears will emerge unscathed by her words. Although I must give credit where it is due, for all her… brashness, I will admit she is quite efficient when she chooses to devote her time towards work.”
Kirumi allows herself to slip slightly, and the corner of her lips quirk up in amusement upon hearing his jab. “I reserve the right to remain silent on this matter.”
This earns her another snicker—they always had an odd way of subtly injecting humor into their conversations.
“Now then. How may I be of assistance to you today?” Korekiyo pushes off from where he stands, closing the gap between the two of them.
“I believe that under typical circumstances, that would be what I would ask of you,” she deadpans, “however, since you asked politely, you may start by slicing the lamb into thin slices. Should you finish early, please repeat my instructions for the beef. You will find the appropriate containers found in the lower left shelf of the refrigerator.”
“Certainly.”
Before he brushes past her to open the refrigerator, he allows his hand to graze hers for a fraction of a second, noting the slight twitch in response she gives. With that, the anthropologist begins to work. in the next few minutes, the other volunteers filter into the kitchen, and the room becomes alive with chatter once again as they prepare dinner.
As expected, the gift exchange is nothing short of tumultuous chaos.
Rantaro had immediately tipped over after putting on his enormous hand-stitched backpack from Tsumugi, revealing it was stuffed to the brim with shotput balls, to everyone’s great amusement.
Meanwhile, Ryoma was shocked into silence from unboxing nothing short of seven pairs of sweaters with cats on them. To top it all off, Gonta had barrelled into the room to surprise him, seven kittens clutched in his arms, each clad in an identical miniature version of the sweaters, all courtesy of Kaede.
Maki's face after seeing what Miu had gotten her was another contender (she had exceeded everyone’s expectations by leaps and bounds) but in the end, everyone was quite pleased with their gifts.
Cheery music filters through the A/V room from the stereo, and Class 79 is huddled together by the portable fireplace that Miu had constructed earlier, sipping on hot beverages.
All things considered, the evening was a success.
Cool air whips around her on the balcony as she steps outside, sending hair and long skirts fluttering in the wind. In spite of the iciness, Kirumi feels nothing but a sense of calming relief from the hustle and bustle of festivities. This wasn’t to say that she hadn’t enjoyed completing the large-scale requests and spending time with her classmates (not that she would quite admit it out loud) but just this once, it was good for her to take a break.
The word feels foreign on her tongue, but she forces the thought away— it was the holidays, after all, and they’d made her promise to take care of herself more.
In the time that she had gotten to know the members of Class 79, Kirumi had found herself enjoying serving such a wide variety of Ultimates, each with different requests that would help further hone her craft.
Even if it gave her a migraine at least every other day.
“An antique custom music box, was it now? Truly, you are too kind. You should not have, Tojo.”
Feather-light touches ghost around her waist, and she smiles— a true smile, first to herself, then to her audience.
“And yet, I did. Surely you did not expect me to not reciprocate this evening.”
He does not reply, but she feels a hand settling down to properly curl around her. Warmth blooms through her abdomen, and she looks to her left to meet yellow irises. “I trust you enjoyed tonight’s dinner and exchange. You looked rather pleased with Saihara’s gift— it was quite thoughtful of him.”
“I could say the same to you as well, seeing how Ouma was over the moon with both of his gifts from you, but frankly I fear for our sanity in the next few days. One can only hope the supreme leader has the sense to not disrupt those of us studying for our exams… but there is reprieve in knowing that you have in fact, not written him a ‘blank check,’ as they say.”
She closes her eyes, breathing in. “It is inconsequential to me. Should he greatly upset the peace, I will not hesitate to admonish him accordingly so that you may all study peacefully. This is merely one of my many duties as the Ultimate Maid.”
“How admirable of you.”
They stay there in momentary silence, watching the trees sway in the wind as snow cascades down and blankets the academy. With every exhale, a small puff of breath appears in front of them, curling and twisting like fleeting clouds until vaporizing into the air.
Around them, the decorative lights strung around glow in the distance, a myriad of colors and patterns wheeling around in a mesmerizing pattern— save for the censored “Merry ****mas” and accompanying shape that flashes for a split second.
It appeared that the the inventor had indeed got the last laugh on Headmaster Kirigiri.
A sudden gust of wind streaks from the right, causing the grip on her waist to tighten slightly, pulling her closer to him, while his other hand dips down into the depths of his uniform. Once it resurfaces, she peers around, seeing a rectangular box. Korekiyo turns it over in his hand, admiring the fine craftsmanship and neat engraving on each side.
“Swiss cylinder box. Constructed from rosewood,” she clarifies.
The anthropologist hums in agreement.
“I would wager that it dates back to about the early 20th century, yes?” He examines it again, opening it to reveal a golden cylinder, a few electronic parts, and telltale comb. “On second thought, perhaps a few years earlier?”
“Correct. The exact date was said to have been circa 1890, and it has been refurbished slightly with a few modifications I wished to specify. However, the majority of the box’s integrity has not been compromised, as I understand you would wish to appreciate its artistry.”
Korekiyo closes the box gently. “You have my gratitude. While I am most curious how you managed to obtain and modify such an artifact… but first, may I?”
Kirumi smiles mysteriously.
“By all means.”
Winding its handle, the music box’s melody sings loud and clear as a modern instrumental arrangement of Carol of the Bells cuts through the air, and he takes a moment to appreciate the nuances of each instrument. She knows that the cultural significance of the particular song she has chosen does not miss him, for he nods approvingly. In a sudden moment of spontaneity, he extends his left palm, offering her his hand.
“May I have this dance? Consider it… a second part to your gift.”
She dips her head before giving him an archaic smile.
“I suppose you may.”
Hand in hand, they step away from the chill of the balcony, and are welcomed back into the building’s warmth, eyes never leaving each other.
Upon reaching an appropriate distance away from the window, they briefly broke apart for a moment, separating to the ends of the room before pivoting on their heels to face each other. Ever the traditional one, Korekiyo took a few steps in her direction, before bowing deeply and sweeping his arm outward to formally initiate his request to dance. Kirumi gazes across the wooden floor, admiring the ambience, then delicately accepts, placing her hand in his.
Gentle, faint piano and the whistle of a flute combines with the tinkles of the metal comb on the cylinder’s grooves, revealing the opening of Carol of the Bells once more.
In between the calm, he places a hand on her waist, and together, he guides them, undulating to the left, then the right, as his partner’s arm matches their movement, drawing complementary arcs with precise elegance. Using the momentum from their sway, he propels her into a twirl under his extended arm before she steps out of the rotation, curtsying.
Deftly, she reverses, spinning back into his arms, and he catches her, re-lacing their hands together and transitioning into carefully controlled circles around the floor. As they recover, Korekiyo slows slightly, and they part again, pirouetting parallel to each other, while the flute moves into the next segment of the introduction.
One two and three…
He allows her to initiate the canon, watching as she balancés away from him.
One two and three…
It’s his turn now, and he matches her movements, albeit one beat off, so that they always mirror each other, never to be on the exact same side. And just as soon as they had left, the pair merges back together seamlessly, the maid placing her arm on his shoulder. For a moment, they do nothing, merely watching and waiting for the other to make a move as the consistent musical lilt slowly dies down, creeping into a momentary pause that seems to suspend in the air infinitely.
Right as the piano returns with much greater intensity than it had left off, they begin again without missing a beat.
Korekiyo wheels her around the dance floor, and the two of them glide across with ease, their every step on tempo.
“I appreciate the consideration put into the song selection, Tojo, given its humble Ukrainian folk tale origins. One can only be so surprised at its immense popularity in contemporary times, ” he compliments.
His partner steps aside with a flourish, chaîne-ing away.
“I merely overheard you speaking of it between classes earlier this month, and it was only appropriate for me to recall its significance for your gift,” Kirumi replies neutrally, but he hones in on her tell, immediately noticing the slight difference in her intonation that signifies hidden pride for her accomplishment.
“Oh? Is that so?”
Playfully, he reels her back in so that they are once more eye to eye, and he lifts an eyebrow loftily. “Pray tell, might I ask what prompted your sudden interest? If I recall correctly, you appeared to be perusing the academy’s music library about a week ago, and your texts of interest were most… specific.”
To her credit, she doesn’t bat an eye, instead opting to loop her arm around his neck again as they continue to step-slide-step, heels faintly clacking on the polished floor. Yet, the subtle crinkle of her eyes give her away, and knows that he has won this particular exchange.
One two and three…
Kirumi’s steps match the beat as she ends the box step by initiating a half rotation pique, while her back leg raises en attitude, then pivoting back to face him.
One two and three…
Firmly grasping her hand, Korekiyo circles around to maintain his support, allowing her to repeat the movement on the other side with the grace of a ballet dancer-- much like the ones found atop music boxes, he thought. How fitting.
In the background, the orchestral music fades out, replaced by ethereal chimes that simulate the majesty of singing bells, before the momentary serenity drops with a loud boom, trumpets and violins announcing their presence. The atmosphere around them changes noticeably with the burst of grand fervency that accompanies the sudden reverberations, before the chimes resume.
His partner swings her gaze away from where she had been looking over her shoulder, lifting her gaze so determined green meets inquisitive yellow, as if restrained by their current tempo.
If it was a duel Tojo sought, then who was he to deny her request?
The music continues to rise, and he presses one hand to her back and another to her outstretched leading arm as their pace quickens accordingly, taking nimble steps in a large arc around the room, stopping in the back corner. And just when it reaches the peak—!
Korekiyo leads the canon this time, triumphant music blazing behind him while he leads with his hand— tombé-pas de bourrée-glissade-pas de chat— finishing neatly a few feet away, and he whips around to watch her response to his challenge. Kirumi follows suit, matching his every gesture, but glides fluidly in the opposite direction.
Together, they launch into the next segment together.
Facing each other, they arabesque, turn back over their shoulder and chassé, feet gliding as one springs into the air, displacing the other, then tour jeté, running back into each other’s arms just in time for the transition to the song’s lyrical section.
Wordlessly, he swoops down and picks her up, spinning her in slow circles, listening to the melody of chiming bells, and the maid closes her eyes to savor the moment. A few seconds pass, and Kirumi is set down gently, feeling his bandaged fingers cover hers as they rejoin hands, before her partner lowers her to the ground in a gradual, tender dip, maintaining eye contact all the while.
Korekiyo feels his breath hitch slightly, eyes widening—never before has his significant other looked so incredibly captivating, he swears— before the moment is cut short by the ever-changing melody. Straightening reluctantly, the anthropologist squaring his body, then guides her torso back up to safety.
A small gesture cues her to take the reins in the next installment, and she delivers.
They diagonally slice through the air, alternating the lead between the two of them as they waltz across the room, traversing its length in mere heartbeats. In between steps, she looks at him again, asking him a silent question, and he responds with a tilt of his head. Having received all the confirmation she needed, she jetés, leaping into the air as Carol of the Bells swells to its powerful climax, and at the last possible moment, Kirumi feels two hands firmly grasp her waist as he lifts her at the vertex of her movement.
And oh, how she soars, floating through the air as if weightless— in that moment, the anthropologist sees the light of the stars brimming in both of her eyes, reveling in the few seconds of zero gravity.
Truly breathtaking.
As infallibly poised as the Ultimate Maid is, she is unable to mask the sharp intake of breath she lets out as she’s raised into the air again immediately after her feet touch the ground. Kirumi looks down sternly at the culprit, who gives her a mock-innocent look, before she’s moved up and over in a semicircle, the ebbing intensity of the music box following suit with his maneuver.
Finally, she lands as airily as she had left the ground, just as the last notes of the song end, leaving the two of them breathing deeply into each other’s arms, gazing into their partner.
"Those corny sons of bitches," Miu quips through the binoculars before slapping Kaede on the shoulder, "See, Bakamatsu? I fuckin' told you that they were gonna do something like that. Sashaying off alone as if we weren't gonna see that shit a mile away."
The pianist shoots her girlfriend a pointed look.
"Don't be a Grinch, Miu. I thought it was sweet, and Kirumi really needed it after working hard all day. C'mon, back me up here, Shuichi!"
Shuichi lowers his hat and twists it shyly, hiding his face into the turtleneck sweater. "Uh--oh, I guess. Yeah. Um, I feel kind of bad watching a private moment, though..."
"Shocker that Kinkiyo didn't try and freak her under the tree because you know damn well Stick Dick's idea of holiday fun is ribbon bondage--"
Kaede'e eyes practically pop out of her head as a warm flush blooms. "Miu! Shush, they're coming back and they'll hear you! Kiyo's going to strangle you if he catches wind of any of that!"
"Kyahaha! You didn't say I was wrong, though! And trust me, he's gonna want those ideas! Talk about a White Christmas, amirite? Thank me later, virgin!"
A few moments later, the two retire from the dance floor to the walls, blissfully unaware of their classmates' eavesdropping.
“That was most enjoyable. Thank you for humoring me tonight, and for the wonderfully thoughtful present. Merry Christmas, Kirumi. ”
She curtsies. “And a merry Christmas to you, Korekiyo. Pardon my forwardness, but would you care to join me for tea after I complete my duties for the rest of the evening? I must admit you’ve piqued my interest with the tea set from our gift exchange.”
The corners of his eyes turn up again.
“But of course. However, I insist on preparing the tea— hush now, you have done enough tonight— and furthermore, I am most anxious to sample the blends that Saihara has given me.”
She gives him a wry smile, but does not protest, settling on a chaste peck on the cheek, a gesture which he is all too happy to reciprocate. Together, the couple strolls out the doorway side by side, greeting those who remain in the A/V room, and settle in their respective positions on opposite sides quietly, giving each other a knowing glance for their subsequent holiday plans.
“Kehehe. I must say, humanity is indeed full of delightful surprises…”