He's not entirely sure why he keeps bringing her back to New York City. He's equally unsure why he loves the city so much.
But the stagehand's strike ended three days ago, and the lights on Broadway...especially coupled with the snow currently falling...is a definition of Christmas to him.
As the just-turned-night air gets slightly more brisk, they
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Someday I'm going to cut a person off at the knees at see how they like it.
Luckily she's not completely serious about that anymore.
It is pretty though with all those lights and the snow starting to stick to it's branches.
"It's pretty....but so sad..."
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Part of the benefits of telepathy - she knows how he feels. Implicitly.
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"I understand people don't hear the trees or talk to their spirits in the Green. Mom used to decorate in the swamp, she'd put tinsel on Dad and then laugh about it for days." The mental image of the Swamp thing decorated in tinsel is slightly absurd. "There's probably still glass balls hanging down there on the trees somewhere, she'd always forget where she put them."
She's really trying to not rain on his Christmas spirit.
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That makes him laugh. "Always figured your dad would have a set of brass ones...but silver, not so much."
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