The Holidays. Were always with a capital H where her late husband was concerned. He loved it because that was when he’d asked Apollonia to marry him and she’d said yes and made him the happiest man on earth. It was also around the time when Apollonia received the news of Tobias Honeycutt’s passing, and with that was sent into a limbo of unknowing while the entire estate was sorted out.

Though it all eventually worked out for the better in the end, Apollonia still didn’t see the Holidays as a harbinger of much joy. Of course, the Inn and Pub were decked out to the nines in garlands, tinsel, ornaments and even hosted the occasional caroling party, Apollonia felt content to step back and observe it all from afar. And while The Three Broomsticks always hosted something on Christmas Day and New Years Eve, Christmas Eve was decidedly one of the more quiet nights of the entire year.

Apollonia made her way around the tables, clearing glasses and dishes as she would any night and humming an absentminded tune as she did so (it was probably a Christmas carol). Her back was turned when the doors to the pub burst open with a gust of wind. “Brrr!” She cried out, shivering as she turned. “Do me a favor, close that as quick as you can if you please!” She chirped brightly with a smile.

Of course, her commands weren’t heeded by the customers - too cheerful and chattering about themselves - and Apollonia heaved a deep sigh, the glasses in her hand drooping as she gave into resignation. It was mid-sigh that the sound of the door slamming shut hit her and she jumped slightly, blue eyes popping open to survey what had happened. What she saw was a blonde customer, wand raised and looking towards the entrance. With a whispered spell, Apollonia let go of the glasses which floated happily towards the kitchen as she brushed her hands off on the apron of her dress.

Propping a hand on her hip, Apollonia’s brow canted upwards at the question. “How old?” She echoed, before huffing out a laugh. “Older than you and me multiplied by at least a hundred.” She was jesting, however with a slightly worried glance at the windows, she nibbled at her bottom lip.

It was slightly worrying that the building was making such noise. Pollina always thought that the building had a mind of its own, rattling out its protests when something was especially wrong or needed attention. Clearly the windows were the ones complaining at the moment.