For a moment, during which he blinked blankly, Gabe had no idea what Gerard was talking about. Santa thing? Alcohol with his name on it? Hey, had his cousins finally managed to get their homemade moonshine to export quality? (Unlikely, but Hogwarts was making Gabe swear off declaring impossibility in all circumstances.)
But after that moment, portions of his brain that were possibly fed up with the circuitousness of recent thinking fired back up and provided recollection of the pertinent details. Gabe's smile wasn't quite a grin, but it was expansive and benevolent, and when he sauntered towards Gerard there was a more carefree swing to his step. "Auror Way," he said warmly, and draped an arm across Gerard's shoulder, "you are a prince among surly Ministry employees. A gem. An overlooked highlight of British wizardry. And I was born to fuck around with traditions."