Hawkeye's been dodging the cold as best he can this month, in between patients and aggressively repressing whatever the hell that nightmare train was. His winter coat is a little shabby, but his new glad rags under it are, in a word, a choice. His waistcoat is the closest thing he could find to a Hawaiian shirt, his cravat is garishly patterned, and his coat is. Green? Turquoise? Point is. It's a Lot. He looks pleased with himself as he leaves little cards on the table. The one for Chris has an I.O.U with a little drawing of a pair of mittens inside it.

When he catches Chris with the card in hand, he sidles up beside them, explaining-

"Sorry I don't have them done, but they should be on your pretty little mits by the end of winter. Turns out doing a heap of knitting projects at once makes 'em all go slower. Who knew?"