The firelight refracted through the remaining champagne as Ham opened his gift.
"Oh boy, a new necktie," he quipped as he tore the paper from the flat, oblong box. "Big one, too, from the looks of it."
"Shut up and unwrap," snapped Angie.
"Okay, okay, but I..."
He trailed off as he lifted the lid and pulled back the tissue paper, revealing a hand sewn shoulder holster of butter-soft Italian leather. Wearing a genuine Christmas grin he adjusted the flat buckles and shrugged into it, then reached for his shiny new Glock 30 (a gift from Chris, who had discreetly retired some hours ago) and fitted it into place.
"Man, this is..." He shifted this way and that to check the fit, nodding, clearly impressed. "Fits like skin."
"Mmm, skin," Angie purred, and leaned in to plant a kiss under his collar. "My favorite flavor." She sat back. "Glad you approve."
"I more than approve."
After a very few seconds of anticipatory silence, Angie began to bounce up and down on the sofa cushions and chant "Whadjagetme, whadjagetme?" until Ham reached into his pocket and held out a small black velvet box. Not being the "ooh what is that?" type, she just snatched it from his hand and snapped it open in a single motion, leaving him counting his fingers with exaggerated concern.
Nestled in the box was a gleaming platinum ring set with round and leaf-cut blue white diamonds in the form of an exquisite lotus blossom. It sparkled like a miniature nova.
"Oh you romantic filthy rich mercenary, you..." she sighed, slipping it on. It fit perfectly above her wedding ring.
"Figured after all you've been through you deserve something perfect," Ham was explaining until Angie flung herself into his arms and knocked him flat on his back.
"I already have something perfect," she told him.
"I mean objectively perfect," he clarified. "But if that's the way you feel about it, give it back." He caught her left wrist neatly.
"Fat chance Tyler." Angie clenched her fist hard as a rock as Ham laughed at her.
"Hey I've never made it fully armed before," she muttered against his neck, pulling at his shirt buttons, and began to work him over as only she could do.
"Whoa," he warned, slowing her down as her hands burrowed under his back and shoulders. "Something other than me could go off."
"Nu-uh," she assured between kisses, "custom titanium trigger guard."
He growled a dark laugh and flipped her onto her back. "I do like a woman who thinks of everything."
"Merry Christmas, Tyler."
"Back atya, Angel."
The "I love you" was silent.