Tommy?
A bright, almost annoyingly vibrant poinsettia tucked into the crook of one arm, a small potted pine (complete with glittering decorations in the same fire-engine red as the poinsettia) snuggled into the other, Jazz ducked into the Mocha on her way home, desperate for an afternoon pick-me-up in the liquid caffeine form.
Her distant, distracted expression matching those fore and behind her she got into line. Vaguely, wondered how she intended to manage a cup of coffee when both her arms were already spoken for.