ersatzdivinity | It must have been the mistletoe

"I could," he says thoughtfully, or perhaps closer to 'mock' thoughtfully, before giving her a lopsided smile and shrugging. "I guess I just figure a lady's entitled to her winnings. Now, if she decides to take pity on a poor loser..."

"A lady might, if the gentleman in question got her a drink," she answers, in that same mock-thoughtful tone, the benevolent lady bestowing a favor upon a supplicant. It's impossible to not follow it up with a grin of her own, though, eyes bright once more.

He tilts his head towards the kitchen, a room she's been welcome to since she first came in. But for now, since he's hosting-

"Eggnog, hot chocolate, coffee, tea... and any of those can come out with a kick."

She does feel comfortable in his house. It isn't shyness--no one would ever accuse Harley of being shy--but it's fun. Part of the teasing, and also, it's just nice to know he's willing to play along. "Whatever you'll have, too. Like eating chocolate, it's not really fun if you're doing it alone. Like a lot of things, really." Stretching her legs out and draping them over an arm of her chair, she holds up a couple coins with a grin. "Might even come with a tip, if you're lucky."

He doesn't drink alcohol, considering what he does most nights, but he does do all kinds of warm beverages. He gives her a nod, stands up, and then finishes it with a playful bow before he heads for the kitchen.

When he comes out, it's with damn fine mocha for her, a black coffee for him, and a little bowl for collecting the wrappers.

"Quick enough for a tip?"

Mocha is totally fine, more than fine even, and she takes the mug and inhales deeply with an appreciative noise, eyes closed. "I'll even make it double, if this tastes as good as it smells," she teases, holding up two of those golden coins between her fingers. "This is perfect. A hot drink, chocolate, games, good company. What do you usually do for Christmas? If you aren't working." She's got some ideas of her own percolating, but never hurts to ask, anyway.

"Usually, I read or I watch Christmas movies all night," he offers with a grin as he sips at his own drink. The coffee is good, because he is a picky picky man when it comes to his caffeine, the company is better, and the night is warm with the fireplace going.

"There room for one more in that marathon?" Before, she would have figured he'd spend the holiday with the rest of them. With someone, anyone else. But they won't ask, or if they do, he won't accept, and she's not letting that be a thing that happens anymore. It's too sad, and he's too...well, that's it. He's too. And so she's gonna be that way.

He glances over at her.

"If you don't have anywhere else to be."

It's his usual way of letting people off the hook, making sure they weren't just being nice or putting themselves out.

It must have been the mistletoe

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