Kyle's look of suspicion does not entirely abate, but he doesn't pursue it.

"Uhm, it's an android..." he pulls up the phone info so Quentin can see which make and model. "I love that you want to text when you can just brain ping me," he teases.

Kyle snorts laughter. "Maybe you'll just get a regular Santa because you weren't a lonely Jew on Christmas growing up. Maybe it's all personalised." He gives Quentin a thumbs-up. "But like, hey. It's just a mall guy, the worst that happens is he says no, you don't get shit."

Kyle, of course, remains completely ignorant of what the naughty kids summon.