*you hear the flap of wings outside your window as a familiar head of hair peeks up over the sill* Ickle: Penwright! *rests forelegs on the windowsill, wind from her wings blowing her hair about* May I ask you a personal question?? It'll only take a moment!

Penwright could only stare in surprise at the pegasus gazing inside on the other side of the window. His mind finally engaging, he quickly trotted over as he opened the window with his magic, letting in a gust of cold air.

“We do have a front door, you know,” he chided playfully. “C’mon inside, we’ll both think better where it’s warm.”

“Thanks!” Ickle said as she quickly climbed inside, her smaller size allowing her to enter gracefully without disturbing the evergreen wreath on her head.

“You remind me of another pegasus friend of mine, never seemed to understand the concept of front doors. Must be a pegasus thing,” Penwright chuckled. “Anyway, you had a question for me? What would you like to know?”

Ickle took the lead from Penwright to change locations to the living room downstairs, where a pocket of warm was emanating. The source, Ickle guessed, was a fire in the hearth.

As they descended the flight, Ickle held her wings out to give her steps a lighter touch, barely tapping the stairs. “So I wanted to ask you a question that was actually asked of me earlier.” Penwright led her to a plushly cozy room where, indeed, a fire was crackling away. “Apparently when ponies around here think of Christmas, they think of mistletoe, so they asked what I would do if you and I were caught under a branch.” She spied a big, overly-stuffed armchair nearest the fire and settled into it, releasing a gentle sigh as the warm velvet hugged her skin. With her eyes closed, she continued “I told them that we would kiss, naturally, since that’s the tradition. But I wanted to ask if you would be opposed to that…” here she released a second sigh as she had finally settled into the chair perfectly, feeling waves of warmth come over her and the smell of books engage her senses from the shelves in the room. “..since some ponies are shy about that…” her voice dropped a few decibels and lowered in pitch, growing more and more velvet to match the chair. “Oh my gosh this chair is soft as sin…”