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"Have yourself," Dom sings, sticking torn wrapping paper against Billy's back with a firm jab, "a merry little Christmas." He drags out the last word, takes another bedraggled piece of paper with its sticky tape edges and smoothes it over Billy's shoulder blade. "Let your heart be...ah...something," he continues, splicing "something" into a thousand octaves. "From now on your..." Dom lifts a foiled bit of paper. "'Ey, is this spot new?" Billy twists to look at the brown beauty mark, shrugs, and replies indifferently, "Dunno." Petting the dot, Dom grins, and lifts a light green bit of paper, placing it. |