J's ready to conjure up some elaborate vision of S in cat ears for his own personal amusement and S's mortification when S saves them both by explaining. His eyes widen a bit and he opens one of the pockets and then the top of the bag itself, increasingly pleased as he understands. "Ah, you thought of everything," he says warmly. It makes much more sense now. He has so little to carry these days, and what he has, he usually just keeps in his pockets. Of course if he takes the camera out, he'll want a way to carry more film and such, and of course he'll want to take it out. Once he gets the hang of it, he knows he won't be satisfied taking pictures of the same rooms over and over. The only subject he'll never tire of is S. "Thank you, darling."

Eyeing the package in S's hands, he does a quick mental check of what he got and what it might be. It's not the gloves, which leaves only the nice faux-leather journal and the small plush cat, appropriately enough, the one truly frivolous purchase he made. It was, though, the cheapest of the gifts he picked out, a whim he really couldn't resist caving to, just a small cat doll with black and white fur and ridiculous plasticky whiskers. He has fewer things to give than to receive under the tree, but he tries not to let himself get bothered by that. It would be easy to make himself feel bad, as if he had somehow failed, but he reminds himself there's a whole cake in the kitchen that says otherwise. Reaching for the camera, he tries to put it carefully into the bag while still watching S.