"So whose place?" Yuyu asks, hands already clasped like she's voting in parliament.
Zeyan answers calmly, "How about my place?"
Before I can even process that, Jiang steps forward—half a step, chest straight, very host energy unlocked.
"Appreciated," he says, polite smile on, "but let's keep it at our place."
I blink.
Our place.
He continues, eyes bright, clearly proud of himself.
"We're already putting up lights. And a Christmas tree. And I'm learning to cook."
He turns to them, then—very subtly—glances at me like he's asking for approval but pretending he's not.
"So," he adds, nodding once, "please be our guests."
Yuyu's jaw drops.
"WAIT," she squeaks. "You're hosting?!"
Zeyan raises an eyebrow, impressed. Just slightly. The man barely reacts to earthquakes but this gets a response.
I stare at Jiang.
This alien.
This man.
This free-will-unlocked domestic menace.
"You're… hosting?" I repeat, slow.
He nods enthusiastically.
