J brightens, pleased to see S try the glove on right away. The colors aren't a complete match to J's eye, but they're so close he's not sure anyone else would notice such a slight difference and enough so that it really doesn't matter at all. What matters more is that S notices the effort he made and seems to like the result. "If I can't keep you warm out there," he says, "you'll have all that at least."

He sets aside the last gift for a moment, leaning over to kiss S's cheek, his weight on one hand as the other comes to rest on S's leg. "And you look good in them." There's a sort of forest-y olive tinge in the green, dark though it is, one that, J thinks, brings out the gold in S's skin and the warmth of his eyes. It's stupidly, wildly romantic, but he can't help thinking of it as a way for S to carry him out into the world with him, to stay wrapped up in the warmth J would provide if he were there too. Except that a scarf and gloves are actually much warmer than him.

Easing back, he reaches for his present again, starting to unwrap it. There's a bit of heft to it, but not as much as the camera, and at this point, he figures, there's little reason to guess what's inside. Instead he pulls the paper away, smiling curiously at the sight of a book — an album, actually, as he opens it, with room for photos, presumably the ones he'll take, most of which will probably be of S, if he's honest. "Ah, it's pretty, thank you."