MISCHIEF
It wasn’t that Allan hated scarves in any way; in fact, they were quite ingenious and useful come winter. He just wasn’t fond of being tied up with fifteen scratchy wool scarves in a stuffy, locked up room, on the side of the house getting the most sun, on the (thus far) hottest day of the year. In fact, as the irritating little fibers brushed up against his bare skin uncomfortably, he wished scarves to a special place in hell. He also swore to pay every single one of those horrid little pixies back for this. It just wasn’t funny.
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