Thief in the Twilight

Planning

"Okay, okay, let me see if I've got this right," yelled Kris, waving his egg-roll-cradling chopsticks in my direction. I leaned back against the counter in my kitchen, enjoying the pasta /alla norma/ I had ordered. I couldn't help but allow a sigh to escape at his words, possibly the thirtieth such in the last hour. He had been going on and on about this for the entire time, even after I had spent the hour before explaining the situation. At least dinner had arrived in the meanwhile to provide a small distraction.

I surveyed my on-again, off-again roommate/boyfriend from where he sat cross-legged on the couch in our living room, gesticulating with sauce-covered food and somehow managing not to send said sauce over all our notes, maps, and photos. Kris and I had started and maintained our dance for about a decade now, ever since I caught him playing Santa Claus down in Florida. Now, when I say something like that, people either react in two ways. If they don't know or haven't met Kris, they occasionally believe it was an innocent seasonal gig. You know, him Santa, me the sexy elf, some games of 'Christmas morning' played in mall cloakrooms or something. I won't lie, we had played some of those types of games over the years.

Others, those whose minds tend towards darker thoughts and know my occupation, think there were some underage shenanigans involved in our meeting and either have their view of me drop several points or, well, I don't like to think of the 'or'. And, I have to admit, there were underage shenanigans involved. Just not the sort anyone would usually guess at.

You see, for all intents and purposes, Kris IS Santa, St Nick, whatever else you would call the big jolly old fellow in Coca Cola red. When we met, he was in training as Santa's apprentice, learning the ropes and on, I think, his first Christmas of relatively solo work. I had been hired by a precocious little girl to prove to her parents that Santa was real. Yes, I used to take jobs that were a bit out there. I needed the money at the time.

Anyway, we were both surprised when Santa turned out to be Kris. Oh, I wasn't entirely surprised when someone looking like Santa pitched up. I had a history with the old man after all, but we hadn't spoken in years. So I thought it was possible, if not likely, that he would pitch. No, that it was Kris was the surprise for me. In the years since, we had gotten to know each other better and after one fairly intense period of 'dating' had decided to move in together. We had cooled off over time but had also realised that we simply enjoyed living together. So, in-between the times we shared a bed, we shared the loft apartment we were currently eating in.

For the curious, he isn't officially Santa yet. The old man is still around and I suspect he will still be around for a few centuries even if he gives up the mantle tomorrow. But these days he mostly just looks after the day to day business of toys, reindeer breeding, and enjoying his retirement years with Aunt Maeve. Kris does all the actual work over the Christmas period, but that means that for about eleven months of the year, he pretty much does nothing. Which is why he often ends up lounging around the loft and being drawn into whatever job I'm currently involved in -- whether he has any useful skills or not.

His lanky hair dropped to shroud his face as he leaned forward over the glass and metal table currently covered in the job materials, one hand still raised above his head with the damn egg roll. His black hair was peppered with grey, a side effect of the magic connected to his position. By December it would be pure white, and by the end of January it would be back to mostly black. Every year though, it took longer to return to its natural colour. He was wearing board shorts and a Hawaiian style shirt, scenes of sunsets and palm trees at least making it tasteful. I could smell the salt and sea whenever I passed by him. I assumed he had stepped to the west coast for the day but hadn't bothered to ask. He wasn't needed on the earlier job and could do what he wanted. I couldn't see them from where I was behind him, but I knew those ice blue eyes of his were scanning over all the paraphernalia before him, looking at the whole, not just the parts.