Author's Note: Teehee, hello, everyone! This here is quite a long post!Christmas special~ If you also read my main series, Roommates, stay tuned for a special Christmas chapter I'll be posting maybe tomorrow or the day after that! 

Thank you for reading, commenting and subscribing! I'm really happy that this received 105 subscribers already, despite it being more of a spin-off rather than a main series. 

I hope to hear some feedback from you guys! 

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! 

credits to the owner of this photo. I randomly found it in my sister's folders, so I don't know whom it belongs to ;A; 

I could feel the curious stares of other shoppers as my brows continued to sink, gradually forming a unibrow (huhu fugly, plz no). I shifted gazes from the tin can of Brand X Matcha powder in my right hand, to the box of Brand Y Matcha powder in my left. (They weren’t actually called Brand X and Brand Y; the names were both written in Japanese so I had no choice but to improvise). My nose started to itch.

The big question was: which one do I choose?

Brand Y was cheaper, but had more product in it, which was always a plus (500 g beats 450 g anytime!); Brand X, meanwhile, had the word ‘SWEET’ written in big, bold letters in the front. And I couldn’t, for the love of all that is good, decipher Noona’s last words to me before I left: “Get the biggest, cheapest bag of sweet Matcha powder.” I had no options but these two as they were the brands that carried the largest servings.

Do I get the cheaper, bigger one—but was most likely not sweet—or the one I was sure of being sweet, but was more expensive and had less weight? Decisions, decisions. I hated making decisions. Worse, I couldn’t exactly call Noona to personally ask her; she was infamous for turning her phone off whenever she was busy. The fate of this year’s Christmas party dessert lied in my hands—literally. I couldn’t fail everyone, especially not Noona who had entrusted this important task to me. It was up to me, to my horrible decision-making skills to choose the right brand of Matcha powder, or all hell will break loose (a.k.a. Xiao Lu when he doesn’t get dessert).

WHY WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME

;A;

I closed my eyes, hoping that somehow, someway, the neurons in my brain could produce enough power for one, miraculous brain blast—or something, anything.

Maybe if I concentrate hard enough, a Brand Z—that which perfectly fits Noona’s words—will magically appear on the shelves.

Maybe.

Hng.

Hngg.

Hngggggggg.

“BRAIN BLAST!” I exclaimed, eyes shooting open. Okay, I will admit, I didn’t actually think of anything. It just felt like the right moment to shout brain blast, because, idk. I. Just. Felt. Like. It. But of course, I had the worst timing and the stupidest brain, because I forgot that I was in a public place—in a grocery where dozens of people, you know, shopped. The curious stares became even more curious (is there such a word as curioser? Because it’ll make my life easier if there were), and I could hear a little girl behind me whisper to her mom, “Umma, is the cute boy okay?” Oh great, just what I needed—to be judged by a little girl. What was a kid doing in Aisle 13 in the first place? I mean, this was filled with tea and coffee and ginger ale (ginger ale? People still drink that?) and all those things that kids wouldn’t drink (especially not ginger ale). Well, at least she thought I was cute—not that I needed the words of a child to affirm what I already knew was true (and that’s a fact, people).

Unfortunately, my brain (and naturally, me) had a habit of not learning the first time around. Without even blinking, I blurted,  “Nothing to see here! Please, do continue shopping!” Oh Se Hun, please, please, stop making a fool of yourself. The shoppers and I exchanged stares, blinking at each other as an eerily, painfully (and I say that with a capital P) awkward silence hung (more like sank) in the air. I pursed my lips and slowly brought a sleeved forearm on my nose bridge—my nose started itching again. Cautiously, I began to turn towards the shelves, praying that maybe, if I stopped looking at them, they would stop looking at me, too, and return to their weekly grocery-shopping. But alas, I could no longer take the feeling of having eyes set on me (lol, yeah right, you live for the applause, Oh Se Hun. But, you know, when I dance, people admire me, not judge), and so I took a quick turn to my right, coming face to face with bags of tea and coffee. “Please, run along now! Don’t mind me! And uh…Merry Christmas!” After a few seconds, I began to hear footsteps as the people resumed their shopping, pushing their squeaky carts forward and away from me (thank you).

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I looked at the items in my hands. Great, one heck of a scene later, you have yet to decide on what to get, Oh Se Hun. Noona expects you to be back by 4 pm, and it’s already 3:40. It’ll take you fifteen minutes to walk from here to Suho-hyung’s place. And failing Noona won’t get you any points with her (not that you needed them; you don’t stand a chance against Xiao LuGeez, thanks for the support, brain or heart or whoever you are).

Why, world, why.

No. Sulking will not get you anywhere (aegyo, on the other hand, is a different story; unfortunately, aegyo is useless in this situation). Finding my inner resolve, I placed both items back on the shelf and turned around. I’ll just look for another grocery store. I’m pretty sure the one near the bubble tea cafe some blocks away carries the Matcha powder that fits the bill. It’s farther, but if I run, I can make it in time for Noona’s deadline (I know she’ll forgive me for being late—should I ever be—I’m her favorite dongsaeng, but, you know, it’s Noona and I take every opportunity of impressing her very seriously).

I nod to myself, balling a fist and saying a soft ‘Fighting!’ for more energy.

Okay! Let’s do this, Oh Se Hun. The fate of EXO’s stomach lies in your hands! You can’t fail them! You can’t fail Noona! You have to—

Wait.

I stopped in my tracks, a familiar green packaging from a few ways back having caught my attention.

Wait.

Wait.

Waiiiiiitttt.

After taking a few backward steps, I found myself in front of the answer to all my prayers.

~

 “You want ice cream for dessert?” Noona asked Xiao Lu. She looked at him as if he were mad. “Are you mad?”

Oh, there we go.

“You just recovered from a fever a few days ago; not to mention, you’re still coughing. Are you mad?” Xiao Lu stuck his tongue at her, and gave her a lopsided grin. He told her that it was ‘the season to let go and have fun’ and that ‘she (you) shouldn’t hold him (me) back from eating to his (my) heart’s content.’

“And besides,” Hyung chuckled, showing her his arm and gently pinching his skin, “I lost so much weight just by coughing. I need to take all of that back.” I giggled, giving his arm soft pokes just to try and test what he was claiming. He and Kris-hyung had gotten sick over Christmas, and Noona did say how horrible their conditions were (“Sorry, Se Hun, looks like Lu Han’s going to miss Christmas dinner at your place this year”), but if you asked me, Hyung didn’t lose a single pound or a fraction of a pound for that matter. Pfft, he just wanted ice cream. Hyung was one lean, mean ice cream-eating machine after all.

“But, Hyuuuunnnnggggg,” I whined, “Ice cream’s not a special dessert for Christmas. It’s just, well—it’s something you can eat everyday. Christmas dessert has to be special!”

“Se Hun’s right, Hyung!” Jong In said, plopping down beside Xiao Lu so that our favorite Hyung was sandwiched between me and him, “Plus, this is Noona’s first party with us Seoul boys. Dessert has to be extra extra extraaaa special this time around!” I nodded eagerly, showing how much I agreed with Jong In.

It was something we did every year: a few days after Christmas, the Seoul-chapter of EXO (me, Jong In, Suho-hyung and Chan Yeol-hyung)—along with Kris-hyung and Lu Han-hyung who rarely went home to China—would hold a post-Christmas party. It was just a tiny potluck celebration, often done at Suho-hyung’s place because it was the most spacious and had the nicest, most cheerful Christmas decorations you’ll ever see. Jong In and I were usually in charge of bringing in dessert—it was the cheapest and us, being the maknaes, hardly had money. Kris-hyung and Xiao Lu would make Chinese delicacies; I’m pretty sure, though, they were the ones you could eat on a daily basis. We’ve learned not to expect too much from them when it came to cooking; they were both just meh—capable, but not actually exceptional. Suho-hyung’s mom would cook the best main course, while Chan Yeol-hyung usually brought appetizers or add in to the dessert. Unfortunately, this year, Happy Virus-hyung wouldn’t be joining us because he and his family were visiting relatives in the province. Too bad, he really wanted to meet Xiao Lu’s roommate.

Xiao Lu looked at Noona, blinking his doe-eyes at her with his lips jutted out. Hyung never means for himself to ever look cute (“I prefer manly,” is what he always says), but we all know how that ends up. “Ice creeeeaaaaammmmmm.”

Noona narrows her eyes at him before gesturing to me and Jong In. “Why don’t you persuade them, aren’t they the ones who usually bring dessert?”

“Oh, right,” Xiao Lu laughs to himself. “Wait, does that mean you’re allowing me to eat ice cream?” he smiles cheekily at her, showing off his perfectly plump cheeks.

“No,” she almost stammered, realizing her mistake too late. “You shouldn’t be eating—“

“It’s settled then!” Hyung interrupts her, abruptly standing up and clapping his hands together. His sudden action caused Jong In and I to fall on the space he previously occupied and bump our heads together. Not the most pleasant experience because Jong In’s head was as hard as a rock (“What are you talking about, it’s your head that’s as hard as rock—no, a diamond.”) “Se Hunnie and Kai-goon, bring some ice cream over, all right?”

“Lu Han—“

“But, Hyung—“

“I want ice cream, my dear dongsaengs. You won’t deny your favorite Hyung his cravings, will you?” he says, a tiny, albeit conspicuously conceited smirk finding its way on his lips, “I mean, I do have that Michael Jackson cd you’ve been wishing for, Kai-goon.”

Jong In gasps. Oh, that’s y, Jong In. Really. =__=

“And I do have that brand new planner from your favorite bubble tea store, Se Hunnie.”

And now it’s my turn to gasp. Xiao Lu, I love you, but…When you’re evil…

You’re evil. EVIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLL.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, now you know whom I take after.

Jong In and I looked at each other before sighing and begrudgingly saying ‘yes’ to Hyung’s request.

“Hmmmmm….” Noona mulled, tapping her chin. “You want ice cream that badly?”

“Yehess!” Hyung answered automatically, pumping his fists in the air. Well, no one could ever match Hyung’s love for ice cream. It was ironic because he was a singer, and singers aren’t very fond of anything cold or sweet because that usually led to a sore throat. In fact, Hyung was never wary towards desserts or ice cold water; he’d chug them down within seconds and still be able to belt out long notes the day after.

Noona gives him the same, skeptic look she’s been showing him the past few minutes but places her hands on her knees afterwards, and stands up to meet eye-to-eye (well, not really, because Noona was a bit shorter than he was) with Hyung. If there was one thing about Noona I was completely and utterly afraid of, it was her ability to stare down at anyone—no matter the height, the age, the gender, the position—with those sharp eyes. Her stone-hard gaze could make anyone feel small and useless and unworthy. Just watching her do that to Hyung has my knees wobbling and something unpleasant in the pits of my stomach bubbling.

Xiao Lu chuckled nervously, averting his gaze from Noona. I’m glad that I wasn’t him at this very moment. “Please?” he mumbled, resembling a little boy too embarrassed to ask anything from his mother. 

“You don’t mind homemade, do you?” Noona asked, the question sounding more like a dream than reality. Xiao Lu’s head perked up—heck, even my and Jong In’s heads perked up at her words. Homemade? That didn’t sound bad, actually—factory-made ice cream could never beat the creaminess of homemade ice cream—but I think, what really astonished the three of us was that Noona…made ice cream? That certainly did not fit her introduction (“Yes, I’m a girl, but don’t expect me too cook or do anything in the kitchen for that matter—maybe except to eat or do a taste-test.”), and that most certainly did not fit her reputation ("Please, Yi Fan, I'm manlier than you will ever be.")

“What?” she said, noticing our curious (and unbelieving) gazes. “I may not know how to cook or bake, but I assure you that I make a pretty wicked batch of ice cream. Wicked—meaning delicious, okay, not the other definition, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Noona clears , “Ehem. Anyway, it’s a weird talent of mine, just as my mother—who knows not a thing about the kitchen—makes the best chocolates in town, I’ve made a name for myself by making the creamiest ice cream you’ll ever taste in your life. It’s my only culinary-related talent.”

In spite of her words, Hyung pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes at Noona. It was Hyung’s turn to give her a skeptic stare. Well, it’s not like he was the only one finding Noona’s words hard to believe.   

“Dude, stop staring at me like that,” she said, waving a hand at Hyung’s face. He replies with a melodic chortle, plopping down between Jong In and I.

“Okay, if you say so. Just…you don’t look the part, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But trust me on this one, will you?”

“All right, all right. What’s with this decision though?”

Noona’s nose scrunches as she makes her thinking-face and returns to her seat. She looked the cutest when she’s pondering. “Well, for one thing, if it’s homemade ice cream, I could control the amount of sugar being put in. We don’t want you consuming too much sugar; a terribly sweet cold dessert is your worst enemy right now, bud, what with your horrible cough. And two,” she smiled at me and Jong In, “Just thought I’ll help these two kids out. It’s my first party with the, quote-unquote Seoul boys of EXO, and shame on me if I don’t contribute something to the potluck.”

Hyung nods. “Well, fair enough, seeing as that’s probably the only way you’ll ever allow me to eat my beloved…” Xiao Lu lets out a few coughs, “Ehem, i-ice cream” he manages to utter, lightly pounding his chest and scratching his throat.

Jong In and I immediately panic and huddle over Hyung, with me gently patting his back and Jong In rushing to the kitchen to get a glass of warm water.

“So, still want that ice cream?” Noona asks, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

Somehow, Xiao Lu finds the willpower to flash her a goofy grin and a thumbs-up. “Yes!” he exclaims before breaking into a fit of loud coughs again.

~

The morning before the party, Jong In, Noona and I found ourselves in the grocery store, shopping for ingredients. Kris-hyung, who had recovered quicker than Xiao Lu did, tagged along, bringing a long list of Chinese ingredients for their dish. “This year’s recipe will blow you away,” he gloated, smirking coolly at us. “Because Lu Han and I have received nothing but complaints about our dish being too ordinary over the past few years, we’ve decided to take it up a notch. So you all better be prepared to taste the glory of Chinese cuisine.”

 Jong In and I grin at each other, arms over the other’s shoulders. “Finally,” to which Hyung responds with his signature b**ch (Oh Se Hun is a good boy :->) face before grabbing a shopping basket and heading off to the noodles and pasta section.

Jong In jumps up and practically twirls towards the baskets to grab one. He turns to Noona, smiling like an idiot. “How can I help, Noona?” he says to her, tilting his head. Noona smiles in return and hands him a short list, careful so as not to touch him. Jong In skims through her note and then looks up to her. “Just coconut sugar and a half dozen of eggs?” Noona nods curtly. “Okay then!” he cheers then turns around to begin his task.

“What about me, Noona?” I asked, pointing to myself.

“Hmm, tell me, Se Hun, can I trust you enough to go get me a liter of heavy cream?”

“Uhh…What’s heavy cream?” I asked, dumbfounded. Noona chuckles at my reply.

“Just come with me then. We’ll go get some of that heavy cream. But we have to stop over at the Japanese aisle first; I need some Matcha powder.”

My brows knitted together. Matcha powder—also known as Green Tea powder. Anyone who knew me well enough knew that I absolutely hated Green Tea. Was Noona mad?

“We’re getting sweet Matcha powder, kiddo, so don’t worry about the bitter taste. Well, okay, so Green Tea ice cream might not be your cup of bubble tea, but it’s my signature ice cream—it’s what I make best. Plus, it’s perfect for Christmas. Has that nice green color going on,” she says, attempting to assure me. Even if it was Noona, I wouldn’t believe anyone who told me Green Tea was worth trying.

“Hnnggg. Fine,” I gave in, no use putting on the spoiled, aegyo brat act; Noona was immune to it, anyway. “But Jong In and I are bringing additional dessert, k?”

Noona chuckles and ruffles my hair, “Okay, kiddo, whatever you say. Just don’t blame me if you fall in love with my ice cream.”

And true to her words, it was the thickest, creamiest ice cream you could ever taste in your lifetime. And it's not just the ice cream I fell in love with.

~

Grinning, I dug through the bags of coffee and tea to reveal the lone pack of sweet Matcha powder sitting behind everything else. I grabbed it and took a moment to go over it, remembering that time years ago when Noona first revealed her wicked ice cream-making skills. It’s been a while, however, because Noona had spent Christmas at her hometown over the past two years. But we were lucky to have her back for this year’s post-Christmas celebration (“Guess I can’t spend my Christmas with you again, Mother, Father. Sorry…Are you sure it’s okay?...Well, you do have a point; I won’t stand down from my decision…All right, then. See you on New Year. Bye, Merry Christmas.”). We all missed her homemade confection.

I traced the Japanese writing on the product, going over every elegant curve; this was the brand Noona and I had bought years ago. It was like greeting an old friend you haven’t seen in years.

“Hello to you, too,” I said, smiling at the tube of Matcha powder. I gave it a shake, finding shallow joy in hearing the powder swish and rattle against the container.

Mission success.

ヽ(;^o^ヽ)

~

By some miracle, Noona’s phone was on. As I ran through the streets (can’t fail to meet Noona’s deadline!), my phone rang and I was surprised to see the caller ID. “Yoboseyeo, Noona? Is something wrong?” I asked, slowing down to a stop so I could talk to her properly.

“You’re not having a hard time are you, kiddo? I had a gut feeling that you were facing a problem regarding choosing the perfect Matcha powder.”  I could feel Noona’s small smirk through the phone.

“Ah, hihi,” I tittered, “Well, okay, maybe I did, Noona. But all is well! I found the brand you and I bought a few years ago!”

“Really? That’s great! Thanks a lot, Se Hun! Sorry for giving you a hard time.”

“Don’t worry about it, Noona! The pleasure’s mine! I’ll be home in around fifteen minutes; don’t start making it without me!”

“Se Hun, you pabo. You have our Matcha powder, how can we?” I heard Jong In laugh at the background.

“Don’t mind him, Se Hunnie.” Noona said, “And no need to rush, all right? We’ll just be here. I don’t want you running like an escaped convict through the streets of Seoul, and then trip or something. Better to be sure than to be reckless.”

“Geez, Noona, I can take care of myself. But thank you. Anyway, I better get going. The fate of this year’s dessert rests in my hands! See you!” After Noona bids me farewell, I locked my phone and returned it to my pocket. I resumed my pace, making sure to be more careful as per Noona’s warnings.

I was a few blocks away from Suho-hyung’s place when a street vendor caught my eye. She was one of those vendors that sold cute, cheap items amidst the expensive, couture boutiques that swarmed the area.

“Hello, young man. Did you find anything that interests you?” she asked me, her old, croaky voice sounding surprisingly pleasant and her honey-brown eyes shining with warmth against the cold, blue winter sky. Her cheeks flushed pink as she rubbed her gloved hands together. “It’s never too late to buy your girlfriend a Christmas present. With your looks, I’m sure she’ll forgive you in no time!” she said, chuckling.

“Ah, no! You’re mistaken!” I sputtered, almost dropping the grocery bag.

“Oh?”

“I mean,” I stepped back to regain my composure, poking my cheeks in an attempt to get rid of the stupid pink that colored them (I hope she just thinks it’s because of the weather). “It’s for my Noona.” I picked up a certain item. It had no luster, no design, no it-factor—exactly Noona’s type. “She gave me something like this a few Christmases ago. I think she’ll like this,” I grinned at the old woman who smiled at me in return.

“This isn’t something you usually give to girls, young man. Your Noona seems interesting.”

“Oh,” I give the woman my famous eye-smile, “She’s more than that.”

~

“Is it done? Is it done?” I asked, peeking over Noona’s shoulder as she took out the container of her ice cream mixture.

Shortly after I arrived, Jong In, Noona and I quickly got to work. I was in charge of heating the milk while Jong In whipped the cream. Noona supervised us, helping us along the way (“I shall take both of you under my wing, and teach you the ultimate ice cream recipe, young grasshoppers,” was what she told us years ago). After the preparation, all that was left to do was to wait for the mixture to freeze. Every thirty minutes or so, Noona would take the container out to fold the mixture, to ensure it would come out thick and creamy. It had been two hours already—just enough time for the ice cream to completely freeze.

Right now, it was just Noona and I in the kitchen. The others were in the dining room, helping Aunty prepare the table.

“Uwahhhhh,” I couldn’t help but marvel at the pretty green color of the Matcha ice cream. Noona took out a scooper and tested the frozen dessert’s creaminess. Despite its thickness, it rolled into a perfect ball with ease. “Uwaaahhhh,” I said again. This was my favorite part, after all.

“Looks good enough,” she said. “Great job, Se Hunnie,” she praised me, patting my head.

“Teehee, thank you, Noona. Jong In and I make a great team, huh?”

“Indeed you do. Now, let’s just put this back in…” She took the container with both hands while I opened the freezer’s door for her. After returning the container, Noona started to head outside, just where the Hyungs were. “Shall we help them set up?” she said.

“Ah, wait just a moment, Noona!” I exclaimed, running after her and in front of the doorway, spreading my arms to block her path. “Don’t go out there yet!” I said, earning a questioning stare from her. “I, um,” I mumbled, fidgeting in my place. “Just wait here first!” I exclaimed again. I ran towards the small dining table in the corner of the kitchen; I could feel Noona’s eyes on me. I took my brown coat which I had slung over one of the chairs, and dug through one of the front pockets. “Ta-da!” I said, waving the item up in the air.

“What’s that, kiddo?” she asked, eyeing the object I took out.

~

Jong In giggled as if he were possessed, jumping up and down like a giddy child who received his very first Christmas gift. “You’re the best, Noona!” he said with his dark cheeks stained a ruby red as he pulled the shirt over his outfit. “It fits great!”

Jong In, Noona and I were at Suho-hyung’s kitchen, having finished preparing her homemade Matcha ice cream. Jong In and I had watched her—the Noona who was absolutely useless in the kitchen (“I can only eat and do taste-tests.”), the Noona who was more rough than she was graceful when she acted (“I’m a country-bumpkin who has spent her entire life training in Taek Won Do, what did you expect?”), and the Noona who liked wild things and good fights (“Nothing is better than a good fight! The adrenaline is on a whole new level of amazing, you know?”)—run around in the kitchen, stirring milk in a silver pot, whipping cream with a hand mixer and gently, slowly pouring the warm milk over beaten eggs to create a nice custard-like consistency. Noona had transformed into a girl. 

As we waited for the mixture to set and freeze, Noona took Jong In and I by surprise as she handed us boxes wrapped in plain, brown paper and a satin black ribbon. “For you,” she had said, “It’s thanks for helping me get this done.”

Jong In and I thanked her, giving her the biggest grins we could make before ripping off the paper to reveal Noona’s presents. Jong In got a new shirt with a nice Michael Jackson graphic design in the front while I received a cute red bow tie.

“It goes well with that green polo of yours, kiddo,” Noona said, referring to the shirt I was going to change into later on. “But that’s just my wistful thinking. It’s not too shabby, is it?”

I shook head, “No, Noona! This is great! Thank you!”

~

I flashed Noona a gummy grin and an eye-smile as I walked towards her. “It’s for you, Noona! You gave me something like this a few years ago, remember? When we—“

“When you and Jong In helped me make Matcha ice cream for my first post-Christmas party with you guys,” Noona finished my sentence, receiving my gift with a small smile on her face. “Of course I remember, Se Hunnie. Thank you,” she said, taking out the black bowtie from its small plastic bag.

Suddenly, Jong In comes walking in the kitchen, eyes bright with excitement. “Noona, is it done?” he asked, heading towards the refrigerator. He stopped, noticing the bowtie in Noona’s hands. “What’s that?”

“From Se Hun,” she answered.

“Hey, it looks like the one you gave him a few years ago.” Jong In shoots me a toothy grin. I stick my tongue out at him.

“Indeed it does, Jong In.”

“You know, it’ll look great on you if you wore it with a nice white polo and a circle skirt,” he said, giving Noona an epic!fail of a wink (please, Jong In, no). I visualized Noona wearing the outfit he described, and I couldn’t help but smile at the thought; Noona would look good great the best in a circle skirt.

“A what skirt?”

“A circle skirt,” he said. “They also call it skater skirt, or something—“

“How about no.”

Jong In and I spend the rest of the evening before the start of the party begging Noona to dress up like a girl, for once, and blocking her way out.

Of course, in the end, she went with her usual Christmas outfit: a red plaid shirt and some nice black jeans.

Plus, that bowtie I gave her.

>u< 

(“Hey, nice bowtie. But you look like a boy even more.”

“Thank you for the support, Lu Han.”

“Haha, no problem! But seriously,” at this, Xiao Lu begins to blush, “You look great,” he mumbles.

“You’re not too bad yourself, Lu Han,” she replies, tilting Xiao Lu’s bowler hat upwards to reveal his pink cheeks.)