Forgive him? Malou's eyes widened slightly in confusion, but she'd never know what exactly he was sorry for, because the peace of the small spot in the ballroom they had claimed as their own was gone.

It might be amusing if it didn't worry her, just how much she had forgotten where they were. She almost always knew her surroundings, but somewhere in the past few minutes Malou's surroundings had narrowed to the branches of the tree and to Mr. Prewett's very presense. It was jarring to realize just how much of the world was still around them with the arrival of the group pushing past. The eyes, the ears, the voices. Just the thought made Malou's cheeks turn red. How could she have been so silly?

There was a strong hand on Malou's arm, steadying and calming, nudging her away from the choas. One moment she was among a group of chatting party-goers, skirts and coat tails swishing, and the next she was in a corner with a pinetree - and Mr. Prewett.

Obvious concern was on Mr. Prewett's face, his brow worried in confusion. Her fingers ached to reach up and smooth it out, instead she fingered the edges of her skirt. "Yes."

A rain of pine needles across their shoulders had Malou looking up at the tree behind them, when something caught her glance. There floated a piece of mistletoe, directly above their heads.

Laughter filled the air as Malou's father pointed at the mistletoe in the arch above himself and her mother, "It's bad luck not to kiss, you know." He teased his wife before wrapping his arms around her.

The memory was gone as quick as it had arrived, yet the words slipped over her lips in a quiet whisper as her eyes remained on the mistletoe above them. "It's bad luck not to. An echo of a memory, a sliver of a chance, a sentence she had never once meant to say. But as her eyes met Mr. Prewett's blue ones she couldn't find it in herself to regret saying them.