He lets out an admittedly dramatic side, holding his arms out before letting them drop heavily back down at his sides. "I suppose so," he answers, though the corners of his eyes crease with a smile that shows how unopposed he really is to the idea. "Before my family passed, my mother used to buy these for us. For me and Dane, I mean, it was sort of a tradition. Some of them are significantly worse than this, this is actually a very tame sweater."

The image of himself wearing that awful one with the menage a trois of reindeers comes to mind, and Spencer can't help but let out a laugh. His mother had claimed she'd thought the reindeer were dancing, but he remembers the incredulous look he'd exchanged with his brother and that had all but confirmed his suspicion that she'd known exactly what she was doing when she'd picked up that sweater.

He takes the corkscrew from Raleigh and gets to work on the bottle, gaze flickering between her and the cork until he manages to pop it out of its hold. "I kind of like wearing them now," he admits with a shrug. "They bring back good memories. You're having some wine, aren't you?"