𝑬𝒙𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒍𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 | 𝑫𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒆 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

₊· ͟͟͞͞➳Secret Santa?

You woke up an hour earlier than usual, the kind of early where the sky still held onto the last remnants of night, faintly gray with a promise of dawn.

The culprit?

A flurry of notifications in the work group chat, all from Curly, who decided to call an sudden
meeting at the crack of dawn.
His message had been brief but insistent:

"Mandatory team meeting.
7 a.m. sharp. Don't be late."

You groaned, half-tempted to roll over and pretend you hadn't seen it, but you knew better. Missing a meeting called by Curly wasn't an option!
After dragging yourself out of bed, you peeked outside.

Snow.

Snow everywhere.

As if someone had dropped an enormous bag of powdered sugar across the town.
You rubbed your eyes and looked again, baffled. Snow in this area wasn't impossible, but this much?
It was almost unnatural.

"What the hell?"
you muttered, shaking your head as you began your morning routine. Coffee brewing in the kitchen provided a little solace, but the thought of navigating snowy roads chipped away at your already fragile morning mood.

By the time you were dressed and ready, the driveway was a slick, slushy mess, and your car—normally your trusty companion—suddenly felt like a death trap.

You hated driving in snow.
No, loathed driving in snow.

The way the tires slipped even when you were careful, the way every turn felt like gambling with your life—it was enough to make you want to call in sick. But you sighed, bundled up, and braced yourself for the treacherous drive.

By the time you neared Pony Express, nestled in a usually barren area of the desert, your frustration turned into outright disbelief.

Snow blanketed the entire area like a scene out of a holiday postcard.
The Pony Express building
was almost unrecognizable, frosted like a gingerbread house.

"What the actual—"
you started, stepping out of your car. The crunch of snow beneath your boots felt surreal.

"Okay, if this is because of Curly's weather machine, I'm not even gonna be surprised anymore."

You trudged toward the front door, your breath visible in the crisp air.
The building was unusually lively for this hour—lights on, voices carrying faintly through the frosted windows.

It seemed like everyone else had been roped into Curly's early-morning madness too.

Pulling open the heavy door, you were hit by the warmth of the heater inside, but the chaos in the room was immediately apparent.
People bustled about, clutching coffee mugs and coats, some still shaking snow off their boots.

And there, in the center of it all, was Curly, wearing signature grin.

"Ah, there she is!"
He bellowed, throwing his arms wide like he'd been expecting you to make a grand entrance.
"Finally! Now we can begin."

You groaned inwardly.

This was going to be one of those mornings.