[Saturday, 24 December, 2259 | Don’t Wait Up For Santa]
“No, kid, you’re not coming.”
Santa’s tone tells Virginia this is not up for discussion, but Virginia refuses to listen to his tone. “It’s too dangerous to do on your own.”
“No, it’s too dangerous for me to take you with me. It all went to shit last night, just look at your shoulder. I’m not risking you again tonight. I’m not at my best, and after the shinobi, there’s going to be more heat on us.”
Virginia looks at Santa. His right forearm has been hastily replaced with a robotic one, and his abdomen is scarred. He only woke up from surgery about an hour ago.
“Then unlock the holster, Santa. Let me help.”
“No. That’s for emergencies only.”
“It was an emergency last night! Let me help you. We’ll get the Recruiter together. Please.”
“No, kid. And that’s final.”
Santa clambers into his sleigh. Virginia moves to follow him, but is held back by Krack and Morse’s gentle but firm grips.
“Get an early night, kid. You know how it goes, you can never see Santa delivering your present. Otherwise, the magic wears off.”
Virginia is flopped on the couch, sitting between Morse and Krack, watching as the credits roll on their third Christmas musical extravaganza of the evening, ‘Getting Elfed Up’.
“Time for bed,” Morse says.
“One more? Please?”
Morse and Krack look at each other as the classic holiday romance, ‘It’s Called Chemis-Tree, Birch,’ plays on the holoscreen. Virginia is asleep, snoring.
Morse gently lifts Virginia from the couch and carries her to her room, being extra careful not to wake her from her slumber.
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