[Aisling is looking vaguely mutinous today, arms crossed and frowning at the camera.]

Just so people will stop asking, the mistletoe isn't here anymore. It wasn't natural, you know. Things can grow that fast, but only with help, and mistletoe doesn't make you kiss. Not usually. None of my plants do that, so you can stop hunting for some that will. Take your shears and knives and go home. And if you want pine trees, you can't just cut them down wherever you want to. I'll help you find a good place and put it in a pot to take home with you if you bring something to trade, but I won't let you cut them down just because. There's a place that sells butchered trees near the big building that sells everything. If you want dead trees, go there.

Now keeping in mind this is the first day I've been sober in a fortnight thanks to Connor being a shite barkeep, Lau being a brilliant genius and Lydia's birthday— and also keeping in mind my childhood was already proper fucked up without any help, and ALSO also keeping in mind that I was KIDNAPPED by that jolly fatarse two years ago (AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO REMEMBERS THIS) so I've got history with him:




Why do I get the sneaking suspicion that Santa fucked my mum?

I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST THE WEREWOLVES