Somewhere in Osten there's a Glitch bundled against the cold. He's found a little outdoor market selling evergreen wreaths and candles and assorted holiday things which are still bewildering to him, but he enjoys poking through it all anyway.

He's admiring the lights on a decorative arch when he notices a terrifyingly familiar sprig, dark green leaves and pale berries tied with a red ribbon.

"Oh cripes," he mutters and backs away quickly. Mistletoe'd once, shame on him. Twice? Shame on the aliens. And even if the plant's not actively making folks smooch this year he's trying to not take any chances.