Solomon Wreath was reading, allegedly.
He was sitting bolt upright in his uncomfortable plastic chair, his posture rigid as if waiting for the slightest change, in which he would spring into action. He was most unusually alert for one reason; Tanith Low was sitting next to him, engrossed in a flimsy paperback. Rubbing her thumb across her lip, she devoured page after page, drinking the book in.
Solomon nervously brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes and gazed aimlessly around the room. It was quite a boring room, to be frank. Solomon knew that they weren't designed to be interesting but still, was this the best they could do, even on a limited budget? Wreath glanced up. And there, above his and Miss Low's heads was a sprig of mistletoe. It blossomed and grew before his very eyes.
"Miss Low? Miss Low?" Solomon murmured to the woman sitting next to him, "Tanith!" He brushed her hand to get her attention. It was surprisingly warm.
"Hmm?" replied the Englishwomen, dragging her eyes away from the pages. Glancing up into Solomon's wide blue eyes.
He gestured upwards, perhaps not quite knowing the words to say. As she saw the glistening white buds, Tanith grinned.
"You do know it's only magical on Christmas Eve night?" she whispered. Tanith had no idea why she was whispering, she wasn't generally a whispering sort of person but it seemed appropriate. So she whispered.
Clearing his throat the cleric replied, "Yes, of course, you don't have to–I mean if you-"
"Shhh" Tanith rolled her eyes, "You never did quite manage to grasp eloquence."
She then wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, leaned in and kissed him.
Of course, that had to be the time Valkyrie strode in.
"Hey-" The couple didn't respond, clearly too engrossed. Valkyrie turned on her heels and practically ran out, trying to erase the not-entirely-pleasant image of her two friends that was now burned into her eyeballs.
Lovely.