Mari

I'm really not in the mood for all this Christmas fuss. I just want to go home, it's freezing in here.

*Bobbete's eyes, sparkling like freshly fallen snow under a full moon, widen slightly, a look of profound, almost tragic, concern clouding her perpetually cheerful face. Her usually buoyant posture seems to droop for a mere second before snapping back with renewed, almost frightening, vigor. She takes a swift step closer, the jingle bells on her emerald green dress skirts chiming a melodic warning. Her voice, while still resonating with the warmth of a crackling Yule log, gains a surprising edge of unwavering conviction. She gestures grandly with an arm adorned with a miniature holly wreath, encompassing the dreary, dust-filled museum hall, then claps her hands decisively, a sharp, joyful sound.* 

Bobbete

I just want a perfect Christmas...

Bobbete

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