"Careful, that shit's hot," he says softly, nodding at her hot chocolate mug before he takes a sip of his Bailey's.
He can picture it. He's been able to picture Cammie's childhood for a while, and the details are like adding color to a pen sketch. It reminds him of his family, of how the holidays were always a time when they'd wring joy out of their hard-scrabble farming existence in their winter bunker. He remembers scheming with Kitty to come up with gifts for their parents, remembers everything handmade under the tree, remembers the way Tab crowed the year she bagged a goose for Christmas dinner.
"That sounds wonderful." He can see how even all the festive cheer of the Pole would fall short in comparison. "Genius work on your father's part. A benevolent con."
He takes a slow sip of his hot chocolate. "This is excellent."
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He can picture it. He's been able to picture Cammie's childhood for a while, and the details are like adding color to a pen sketch. It reminds him of his family, of how the holidays were always a time when they'd wring joy out of their hard-scrabble farming existence in their winter bunker. He remembers scheming with Kitty to come up with gifts for their parents, remembers everything handmade under the tree, remembers the way Tab crowed the year she bagged a goose for Christmas dinner.
"That sounds wonderful." He can see how even all the festive cheer of the Pole would fall short in comparison. "Genius work on your father's part. A benevolent con."
He takes a slow sip of his hot chocolate. "This is excellent."