[In the forest behind the chapel, near but not in sight of the onsen, Will is practicing Christmas Carols. He's good at this, his choir-boy training shining through. The softly falling snow, the secluded location, the plaintive notes of his soprano singing voice and the distance from the raging snowball fight elsewhere in camp, all combine to make
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Hmm. I suppose they had trusted advisors.
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Star of royal beauty bright.
Westward leading, still proceeding,
guide us to they perfect --'Lo Francescu.
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On the feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about,
Good and crisp and eeee-- Oh. Um, hallo.
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Um... sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt! I really like it.
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