Needless to say, Ava had absolutely no idea what was going on. That was what irked Jeff about this whole thing. Yes, the half-pint liked the shiny lights and candy and snow that was a middle-class Chicago Christmas. But this idea that she needed to, say, come 'sing Christmas carols with her friends' (when, in fact, the only song she knew how to sing was the Notre Dave Victory March) seemed a little... psychotic to him.
Then again, coming from the guy with an incubus' memories in his head, 'psychotic' was relative. Maybe he was just a bad parent, like they said. Obviously some part of him believed them, if the obnoxious(ly overpriced) satin dress she was trudging through the snow was any indication. At least he had the sense to put her in boots, instead of the shoes Lisa (he thought her name was Lisa, at least) at the store had told him to buy. Making their way over to where Tristan was waiting, Jeff finally hoisted Ava up onto his hip, not paying any mind to the snowy boots soaking his coat.
"Hey- sorry we're late. It's not exactly easy to get this one in a dress. Say hi to Mr. Tristan, honey," Ava looked over at Jeff with owlish eyes and a little smile, before tucking her face against her father's neck.