I've been over this before.

We didn't really celebrate Christmas. Decorations were superficial, for the sake of my mom's fancy. Dad considered it a vestigial gesture to some winter festival like Saturnalia or Brumalia. The point of the holidays, for me, was getting whatever I wanted. Why? Because I was a spoiled brat. And when you've got centuries worth of junk rotting in your vaults, fulfilling a kid's whims is the easiest way to say you've done something.

Then I grew up and figured out you don't always get what you fucking want. Commodity doesn't really amount to much when what you need is something immaterial.

This Christmas, I'm only asking for something simple. To the displeasure of the asshole who shot me twice in the legs, I'd like to walk out of here by myself soon.

I'm checking out Friday.

Meanwhile, please keep that Greek nurse out of here. You know, the one with the atrocious face and the turkey waddle? I don't want to risk kissing her. If this place isn't enough of a shithole.

[ooc: ... Backdated to yesterday! Um. If you have a reason to be around him, you can kiss him, but otherwise he has luckily found a haven. 8D]