[Tradition. Walter tips his head ever so slightly to one side, not understanding... until he sees the mistletoe.
All the colour abruptly leaves his face, and rather than confused, he instead looks, for lack of a better word, grumpy.]
That plant.
[He practically growls the words under his breath. He's been avoiding it all night, and now Horus has gone and brought it to him. And stolen a kiss with that wretched tradition as the reason.]
no subject
All the colour abruptly leaves his face, and rather than confused, he instead looks, for lack of a better word, grumpy.]
That plant.
[He practically growls the words under his breath. He's been avoiding it all night, and now Horus has gone and brought it to him. And stolen a kiss with that wretched tradition as the reason.]