This time, it's Crysta who lets out a soft, despairing groan. "That's dairy, knock." She whines, because some habits passed to her are not so easily shaken. But she's nothing but a good sport, most of the time, and it's only fair to play by the rules of her own game. So she takes the eggnog, pours some into a glass to prepare for a chaser, and then neatly raises the little to her brother.

"But this is fitting, for one more year of somehow not killing each other outright, isn't it?" She looks like she's about to say something even more wistful and revelatory, but instead just swallows the entire teeny bottle in one artful chug.