“Full lip contact, requisite smacking sound, mistletoe hanging over us like some grim cupid wannabe,” Richard sounded off, “I’m pretty sure it has all the hallmarks of a Christmas kiss. I can’t think of anything missing.”

“Romance!” Rex shouted. “It’s missing romance you heathens!”

“Oh, look,” Graham drawled. “I’ve been upgraded from un-Christmas to a heathen.”

“I can’t wait to see what he calls us next,” Richard said with a small grin as he sat at the counter. “How much teasing do you think it’ll take to be called ‘Santa’?”

“You really want him calling you Santa?” Graham asked pulling a disgusted face. “That sounds like some dirty sex game.”

Richard’s face went sour and he pushed his coffee away. “Okay, now you’ve made me hate myself a little bit. Ouch.”

“You two are mean,” Rex complained. “I’m leaving.”

“Yes, go serve your customers,” Graham mock-ordered.

“Make lots of money!” Richard suggested.

Rex made a rude gesture at them as he walked away, and they both laughed.

“A lot of deliveries today?” Richard asked in the quiet that followed.

Graham shook his head. “I’ve got other things to do today,” he said. “I just came in to warm up a bit before heading back out.”

“That’s right, the reindeer encounter is tomorrow, isn’t it?” Richard picked his cup up and turned it in his hands. “It must be a lot of work to set up.”

Graham didn’t answer for a moment, and Richard thought he might have offended the other man. It was only when Richard was about to apologize for overstepping that Graham spoke up: “It is. Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Realizing,” Graham shrugged. “Most people assume it’s not that hard since we have a simple setup.”

“But just because it’s not hard doesn’t mean there’s not a lot of steps,” Richard pointed out. “And sometimes a hundred simple steps can seem more overwhelming than one really hard one.”

Graham nodded.

“Are you - doing okay?” Richard asked.

“Of course. I do this every year.”

“You walk out into a frozen lake every year?” Richard asked, alarmed.

“What? No - that’s none of your business,” Graham growled as he stood, barstool screeching against the tile.

“I’m sorry, I just meant-“

“Doesn’t matter,” Graham grumbled as he left.