Ah. Good, good, that’s good… [ He trails off, unsure of what to say. Unsure of if he wants to say anything else. He really does want to go back to his room, but then there is the matter of… ] Yes, right. The presents. [ He nods. And then, because he hasn’t forgotten what she’d told him earlier: ] Present, singular. I apologize.

[ He turns to the tree, nudging a wrapped gift with his foot. It’s strange, the thought of opening a present below a Christmas tree, as though he is from a wealthy family. But perhaps it would be nice, just this once. Perhaps he can indulge himself.

Making up his mind, he kneels at the base of the tree, so that he can get a better look at the gifts. They have tags, each one written in neat Russian, though by now he’s sure Beth Annette (for that is what he will call her, both out loud and within his thoughts) sees English. And oh, there’s his name, attached to a rectangular parcel wrapped in cheery red and green. He picks it up, unable to help his curiosity. ]

This one is mine. Is there one for you?