[The PCD is set on the floor amid bright bits of paper and ribbon, and every now and then Kaito's socked feet pass by the view, bounce in his step almost to the point of dancing across the floor. Muffled, you can hear him humming little snippets of christmas carols, a verse of Silent Night, a note or two of Jingle Bells, a good chunk of God Rest
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[He talked about it with Konata, but then forgot it again...]
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My name's Kaito, what's yours?
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