"Thank you." cooed Sally. She curled forward on the bed resting her chin on her knees.
Jack paused mid-movement, preparing to place a new log on the fire.
"Whatever for?" he puzzled.
Sally released a sleepy giggle.
"Tending to the fire, Jack. You always take care of that. I could do it. I know how, of course. But..."
"Sakes, no!" Jack said with alarm, shaking his skull. "It's something of a risk for you after all, and you are something I'd never risk."
With that, he pushed up his pajama shirt sleeve, depositing the fresh log squarely into the flames with his bare hand - plus no small amount of showmanship.
"Ooooo... You're something." Sally sighed playfully. A feathery whisper of a giggle escaped her again. She fluttered her eyelids and yawned.
"You're exhausted, beloved." observed Jack. He struck his skeletal hands against one another, dislodging a thin dusting of ash. "You get up too early in the mornings! Don't I
tell you to sleep in? I wish you would more often."
"I worry I'll fall behind." Sally fretted. She swept her hair forward over one shoulder and pulled a comb through the ends, tugging gently at webs of tiny tangles formed
over the course of the day.
"You won't fall behind." Jack assured her. "We started late last year, and nevertheless, even with all of this so new to you, you did perfectly fine. There's no need to worry.
Anyway. Let me comb your hair, darling..."
Settling behind her, he held out his hand for the comb. She complied, bringing her own hands into her lap as Jack worked.
"I love when you do this." Sally breathed, closing her eyes. "It makes me feel like a princess in one of those old stories."
In her mind, she elbowed past an intrusive thought of how the doctor would have scoffed at such a thing. Such airs! Imagining yourself a princess.
"You're not a princess, Sally. You're a queen." Jack supplied, his tone purely matter-of-fact. "A queen who should sleep in more often. Tomorrow night is Christmas Eve, you
know! It's our Christmas Anniversary! We should have mulled wine again! Could we do that? I muddled through last year following a book, but I'm sure you could do a better
job. It's just the kind of thing you excel at, truly! That would be spectacular, don't you think so?"
"I can do that." she said, laughing at the giddy joy that always soaked Jack's voice whenever Christmas was a point of discussion.
"Fantastic! So relax tomorrow! You rarely indulge anyway, and I'll feel just awful if your head hurts on Christmas Morning! That would be tragic. Your hair, should I braid
it?"
"Mmhm. Thank you." Sally murmured. She passed him a small circle of cord she'd arranged by her side. Jack planted a kiss on the coarse seam running
between her shoulder blades before continuing with the braid.
"You smell like last Christmas." Sally said, gazing at the hearth as flames began swallow the log he'd placed.
"I do? Like holly, or evergreen, or peppermint?"
"Like Fire." She said quietly. "Like smoke".
"Oooh." Jack replied, a sheepish gloom instantly melting his mood.
"You smell like that on Halloween too, of course." Sally went on. "But it will always remind me of Christmas."
"That's most embarrassing, Sally, ugh."
"Not at all, Jack! It's the best smell in the world to me!" She said suddenly, turning her head to look at him. Jack cradled the end of her braid in his fingertips.
"Is it?" he asked.
Sally sighed, pressing her palm against the side of his skull.
"Most certainly."