“The dress code states tuxedos.” “Lord Jesus and all the saints,” he mutters. “Fine.” “There will be Christmas carols. Socialization. I wanted to spare you.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m already dead, Harriet. One night of socialization is hardly an inconvenience.” “You love the dead jokes.” “Not a joke.” A smile lifts one corner of his mouth. “I’m dead serious.”
