Sixteen Christmas cards on your table; leftover from last Christmas. You make a list of whom you could dispatch them to.
…B is not on that list.
Not that you don’t appreciate B for what he’s done throughout the year, deserving at least a grateful acknowledgment at the end of it. You know he’d feel awkward not sending one back, yet couldn’t, as there’s a million other things he could do instead of making a trip to the newsagent’s for a Christmas card. You also know that you don’t need a Christmas card to state the obvious. There is much more to the amity than a folded piece of beautiful paper can include.