"I'm... not really a Christmas person," Elvis admits, his expression an almost apologetic wince. It's not a subject he tends to get into, mostly because it's too fucking morbid for most people, especially those he isn't already close to. Still, he supposes he can talk around it. He isn't just going to lie and say he's looking forward to celebrating a holiday that he dreads every year. "Wasn't a great time of year for my family, back home. I've got a few people I might try to find something small for, but..."

He shrugs. It's hard to buy into all of the commercialistic shit surrounding it, to put up with Christmas carols and excessive cheer being shoved in his face in the name of trying to track down something nice for the few people here he actually cares about. Maybe he'll get belated gifts, once the decorations are down and everything is on sale. Chances are, he wouldn't be exchanging gifts with anyone before then anyway.