It was the first time in a while that Alvin had accepted the invitation to the Potts' annual Christmas Even celebration. Typically it had been a family affair at home, because adding the Bixby clan to the already large extended and extending Potts family seemed like a bit much, but his mother had politely decline the invitation on her own behalf. Alvin had thought about abstaining too, wondering if he should be home, but Fiona had encouraged him to go and enjoy the festivities. Knowing the mood at home would be somber and Rufus and his family would not brighten the mood until tomorrow, Alvin thought there was no harm in going, at least for a little while.

Plus he needed to get a better read on Zinnia's fiancé. The whole situation still got him worked up. To find Zinnia in such a position, one that she had made very clear was just as much her fault as Gallagher's but Alvin was still a bit leery. He had, without thinking, offered to step in, to marry her if the constable would not, but it appeared the back-up plan was not necessary. Still, he didn't know the chief very well, had thankfully never much run into any trouble with the law (well, here in Hogsmeade anyway) and therefore knew next to nothing about the man his best friend was going to be marrying. He wondered just how this would change their friendship, if at all; there were too many variables up in the air.

Still, he couldn't glower at the man all night and hadn't been able to catch him alone to interrogate him, so Alvin was starting to think he would let it slide for tonight. It seemed Mrs. Potts had gotten there first anyway and that was likely to be a better, more thorough conversation that anything Alvin could come up with. The feeling was persistent however, and the night still young enough that he couldn't excuse himself to go home, so instead he found himself taking respite in the garden, hoping a few minutes of cold, fresh air would help center him and clear his mind. His coat hung loose and open around his shoulders, letting in just enough of the chill to help cool both his skin and his head. He stretched out his neck and felt the characteristic pop of crack of being bent over sketches release as he surveyed the garden. Flexing his fingers, he shoved them into his coat pockets and took a few deep breaths.

Alvin took a few more steps into the garden itself, snow crunching under his boots when he noticed he wasn't the only one who had slipped out into the night air. "Miss Thompsett, are you alright?" Alvin couldn't tell quite what sort of expression she had, but was leery to upset her if she wanted to be alone.