late-for-a-very-important-date

[late-for-a-very-important-date]

Alba did their best to quash her anger as best as they could. She lived to serve. Being stuck completely unknowledgeable about what was going on in Alice's head and unable to make things significantly better made her feel powerless. Incomplete. Useless. Maybe they were beginning to tire from feeling this way.

Worse than that, however, was the possibility of it having happened a second time right under her nose while they were none the wiser. Was it really possible that there could be a connection between what happened to Alice and Lorelai's impromptu vacation? It couldn't be. It has to be coincidental. If not, then that's two important people in Alba's daily life that had experienced something terrible. And that would make her the linking thread.

Alba blanched at the very idea of a conspiracy board kept in someone's basement where all the red yarn pointed to them. If she had in some way, somehow unintentionally caused all this suffering, they would never forgive themself.

No, it couldn't be that. As bad as it was that all those townspeople were poisoned, that was confirmation in and of itself. That testified to all the people unconnected to her, that Alba wasn't at the centre of it all. Yet why wouldn't that niggling feeling disappear...?

She shrunk into herself, more unsure than ever. "I don't know." But now that the connection had been drawn between Alice and Lorelai, they couldn't help but feel guilty. Ms. Katz was probably facing a very similar struggle with Ms. Hart that "I'm sorry. You know what, if there's anything at all I can do to help with the Lorelai case, please let me know."

.

It took her a moment, but soon enough she got it. Alice Little. Old news. Or, rather, news that had led her nowhere but to a constant frustrated state. The fury in Alba's voice was unexpected and, honestly, a bit awkward in its unpredictability. Still Chelsea quickly got in their way before she could storm out.

"Hey, hey, hey, there's no need to fly off the handle... I'm sorry. My bad, I should have been quicker to realize you were talking about Alice." Chelsea had done her research and reported on the exact time of their disappearance, the details of the search that took place, the time of their return, the testimonies of their family. She knew all what was available to know about the Alice Little case... But it had admittedly been left in the back burner for too long a while now. She understood Alba's anger, even if she believed it was misplaced.

Chelsea huffed and scratched her head. "I've had my suspicions both cases were connected, Alice and Lorelai's. So far, it's just that, a suspicion, and with how little information I could gather from the Little case, I mean, I know when I've hit a dead end..." Not that it ever stopped her. It just meant she would keep obsessing over it until the next case called her attention and sparked her curiosity.

"But you and I know that, after what happened to Alice, and after the incident with the poisonings, we can't trust any sudden disappearance to be what it seems to be at first glance. Do you really think Lorelai is just on vacation? Without telling absolutely anyone about it beforehand?"

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"What do you mean you don't know?" Alba exclaimed in shock. "It was all everyone was talking about in the holidays, a year or so ago." Manners long forgotten, she scoffed, possessed by a sudden fury they didn't know they had, but perhaps, it had been building up deep inside of her all along.

"Of course, all it takes is for one rich woman to go on a fucking vacation for everyone to move on and forget about it. Meanwhile those of us that actually care are left to pick up the pieces." Alba looked up at her in challenge. "You're a journalist, aren't you? Figure it out. Or don't. Whatever. But leave me and my friend out of it. They've dealt with more than enough as it is, you understand? I'm done here."

.

Chelsea opened her eyes wide, snapped her fingers, and pointed at Alba. "Wait. Who are you talking about?" Now she had her absolute full attention. It wasn't that she wasn't listening to Alba before (she always kept her ears perked up for anything, after all) but clearly this was the way to the real piece of news. Someone else was mysteriously missing, from what Chelsea could deduce from the insinuation, and now Alba was going to tell her who it was and what they knew about it. Even if Chelsea had to pester them all day long.

"Some people say I'm very persuasive. It's a gift," Chelsea sighed with a nod. "And a curse... But mostly a gift." And then she shoved her hands in her pockets, containing her instinctive need to pull out her notebook. "But let's get back to the conversation at hand, shall we?"

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Alba quickly shook their hands and their head. "No need. I wouldn't want to impose on Mia. I'll take... your fuzzies? It looks very comfortable."

Alba gratefully took the pyjamas from Alice. "I'll just go change in your bathroom." She smiled affectionately. "You can keep me company outside the door if you want."

Alba made their way through the home which she knew as well as her own, before closing the door behind them to get changed. In less than a minute, she was back out again, and made a show of modelling it like they were both kids again and didn't have trauma and tyrant bosses and disappearances looming over them.

After a fit of giggles, they said, "You know, I've never felt more akin to a rabbit than like this."

Alice glanced down at themselves for a moment, seemingly forgetting for a moment what size they even were. (That had been a thing, lately. Alice felt like they could grow or shrink at a moment's notice and could hardly picture themselves in space, yet when they checked, they were a perfectly regular height, and weight, and the tables weren't taller than them, and the buildings weren't shorter. Their hands could still hold a teacup, they could still open doors and not fit through the keyhole.)

Alice glanced back up at Alba.

"Yes, I suppose we are, but your legs might be a tad longer than mine are..." they said, rolling off the bed. Alice went to their chest of drawers, stuffed with a collection of pyjamas that inevitably never got worn because Alice had an affinity for one particular pair. They pulled a few options from the pile. "Do you want fuzzies, or jersies, or shorts, or a nightgown? Or we could steal Mia's Oodie!"

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Alba's eyes widened to saucers. "Me?" Heat rushed to their cheeks immediately. Being singled out in public by a complete stranger was one of her worst nightmares come to life.

"I mean, of course," Alba said quickly, for fear of appearing stupid, or worse: rude. "Who doesn't? I, um, love my family and my friend."

She cringed. Not only had they overshared beyond what would probably be considered socially acceptable (at least, by her standards), but they had done it in the worst way possible too. She must seem like the biggest loser on earth to this peppy, confident person. They hoped the ground would open up and swallow her whole. This person must think that she's the loneliest most pitiful creature in the world, having only a single friend they consider close.

"Uh, anyway," said Alba, hoping to distract both herself and this stranger from their failure to act like a normal human being, "what's this for? Is this some kind of promotion?"

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Rachel had made it a tradition that Valentine's Day was all about everyone and that included every random stranger on the street. She made a set of handmade cards, as usual, and decided this year she would sell them to raise some money for a local charity.

Freezing though it was, she had parked herself up outside the Enchanted Rose, with a little table set up covered in hearts and chocolates and her cards. "Hey! You look like a person who loves love, right?" Rachel chimed, waving down the next person she saw with as much enthusiasm as an NFL Cheerleader.

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Even as the anxiety at the mere thought of the idea began to set her heart aflutter, Alba said decisively, "I'll wear my pyjamas too. Then you won't be alone."

Alba began to get the feeling that Alice was delaying no matter what. She couldn't fault them for that, but she just wished that they would say what they mean. Alba would be happy to accommodate anything as long as it wasn't to Alice's detriment. They decided to continue more cautiously and test her suspicion.

"We're about the same size, right? Do you have any spare sets of pyjamas that I can change into now, or should we quickly stop at my place on the way to the cinema?"

Alice nodded slowly, agreeing in a practised manner. They were agreeing, but they weren't thinking about it. They were trying not to. Or maybe it was that they were trying not to think of other things, and in turn that made trying not to think of anything part of the plan.

"Maybe the king-size mega slurpy will be the sugar rush I need," they said thoughtfully. It certainly sounded appealing, rotting your teeth on pure syrup and ice to balance out the saltiness of the popcorn. Sitting in a dark room, with every sense forced to focus on something else... Yeah. Yeah, Alice could do the cinema.

"Do you think they'll notice if I stay in my pyjamas?"

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Alba frowned in confusion. "Lorelai? What do you mean? I'm talking about--"

Their eyes shot wide and her hands flew to their mouth in the futile hope that it would magically summon the words out of the air and return them deep into her throat. They looked at Chelsea in disbelief.

"How do you do that? You-- you just--"

.

Chelsea cocked her head. "You sure?" The outburst didn't bother her in the slightest, used as she was to them. But Alba was doing a rather sloppy job at not appearing suspicious. Then again, they seemed like the nervous type, the sort that would appear suspicious by just sipping a cup of coffee.

"Hey, I understand," the journalist said as she shrugged. "But d'you think Lorelai would mind it that much? Honestly, I think she'd understand that we're just concerned about her, and that you're just trying to help her out." This was no lie, nor a line to convince her to spill whatever she was keeping quiet.

"Bah, don't worry about me," Chelsea smiled and shook her head. "The secretaries know me well enough by now. If they call security, they know I'd just end up chatting them up." She wasn't worried about them. She was way more concerned about what she should do about Alba. Of course, she wanted to keep questioning her, at least until she got a clear answer. But, at the same time, she had the feeling Alba was dead set on keeping their mouth shut about this. Maybe she could try at another time, maybe when Alba didn't have the excuse of being so busy. Something her job had taught her, however, was that people did love their too-busy-to-answer excuse.

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Alba smiled politely and extended their hand the way it had been ingrained into her by a combination of family and work. "Yes, that's me. I don't think I've met you yet, so..." She inwardly cringed at how quickly they managed to let it turn awkward, and quickly scrambled to hopefully salvage the conversation. "Nice to meet you!"

Alba wanted to facepalm, but feared it would only make matters worse. She should have just stayed at the internship rather than trying to establish a uni life. They had completely adjusted to the corporate world where all she had to do and say was what they were told, and now she felt out of her depth among fellow peers. It was a mortifying realisation, one they tried to push aside as she quickly retracted her hand and attempted to pass it off as a casual wave. Perhaps if she stayed in this club long enough, they'd be able to be reoriented into a proper well-adjusted student. And Ollie certainly seemed friendly enough.

"I, um, heard that cloudwatching is very calming?" said Alba, trying to string themself together into some semblance of a human being. "I think I could use that."

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"Thanks for coming to watch clouds with me." They said with a soft grin. "I know a lot of people have sort of, left the club, because I mean who really watns to go lay on the ground and look at clouds. But, I'm thankful at least a few people still like to." Ollie knew it was a weird hobby, but that would never stop them from doing it. "Your name was, uh Alba, right? I'm Ollie! Ollie Arendelle!"

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Alba nodded quickly, a smile dancing across their lips. This was progress. This, she could work with. Perhaps Alice too knew deep down that they needed support, and Alba would literally drop everything and move mountains to make it happen.

"That's wonderful, that's perfect," Alba gushed, the cogs turning in her brain already as a plan began to form. "Let's go to the cinema. You pick the movie. Then you don't have to overdo yourself with social interaction-- trust me, with my social battery as weak as it is, you know I know all the tricks. We won't need to see anyone other than each other. Then we can come back, and we could make our own mince pies! Does that sound good to you, or does it need a little workshopping before we head out?"

Alice really did want to go to the party, deep down. But Alice's problems far outweighed that want. They could want all they wanted, it sadly wasn't going to win. Even guilt couldn't win in this case.

There was a hesitation to look at Alba again, but when she suggested that they skip after all, Alice took another glance, to be sure. "Do you think the Uber guy will bring us ones from the party if we ask..?" they asked timidly. (Why Alice was so hung up on the mince pies was anyone's guess, but they sounded so delightful.)

Alice took another pause, considered the promise, and then nodded.

"I promise... But only if there are less people around..."

It wasn't the people that were the problem, per se, but Alice was so easily overwhelmed by things at the best of times, never mind now, that the thought of even going near a crowd was turning their stomach.

"We could try the cinema. Or the zoo."

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"Nothing!" Alba snapped, before quickly putting their hands over their mouth as her eyes widened in shock at their own outburst. These seemed to get more and more regular the more that piled up on her plate. Perhaps the journalist's interrogative techniques was more stress inducing than they previously thought.

"No, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." Alba looked away. Even this felt like admitting more than she was supposed to. They wanted to sink into a hole of shame and never come out. It made maintaining eye contact all the more difficult. "I just... I don't want to talk about my friends behind their backs. They trust me, and I'd like to think that if I were in their position that-- that they'd do the same for me."

Alba drank the last of her coffee. They hardly noticed as the takeaway cup began to bend beneath her grip. "I'm so sorry, but that's all. I need to get back to work, and I would imagine that you need to get back to..." Alba waved a hand through the air in a vague motion, "... what you do. Please, have a nice day. And I'd advise not coming back around here again, or I fear that the secretaries may call security if they get fed up with you."

.

"It's alright," Chelsea said, and pressed her lips together. "I bet you're actually really busy with all this... this lawyer stuff." She sighed and shrugged. At least they had made the effort, right? "I do hope your friend's better now."

And then Alba said something along the lines of 'come to think of it', which sounded like more than just a random thought, and Chelsea raised her eyebrows.

Well, she always had more questions. It was somewhat clear that Alba didn't seem to know much else, but still, her inquisitive nature insisted she made sure no stone was left unturned. And, besides, even a small detail could be a lead to something far more complicated. "No, no, what were you thinking right then? I mind, I do mind."

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Alba didn't really know why they had asked the question at all. It wasn't as if Chelsea knew any more than her. Even if she had no particular attachment to Ms. Hart (and frankly, the thought of even seeing her usually filled them with a sense of dread), they still liked the reliability of her presence in her life. Now they almost couldn't help but feel like a little kid again. All she wanted to do was to go back home and crawl under the blankets and wait it out as if it were a mere lightning storm that would come to pass. If only it were that easy.

A crinkle forming between her brows. "I-- I don't know. I hardly noticed at the time, it wasn't until after she left that I thought back on it at length. I was preoccupied. My best friend has been going through something. Come to think of it..."

Alba twisted her sleeves so hard that they became taut, a vice wrapping around her wrists and squeezing, squeezing, squeezing. They released it, and quickly shook her head. "Never mind. Are those all the questions you have?"

.

"What sort of off? Just a little snappier, or did you notice something else?" the reporter asked. "You say she was paranoid. What did she think was out to get her?"

So Chelsea wasn't imagining it when she noticed Lorelai had been particularly strange lately. If her employees noticed it, then it had to be true. She had to wonder if it was because of something that Lorelai knew, something she wouldn't let others know. A secret that now came to bite her in the ass.

It was that or an enemy. Surely an important, experienced lawyer like Lorelai Hart must have a fair deal of people with a grudge and a chip on their shoulder. But would any of those people really take it out on her? Would anyone really dare?

What if it was just an accident? What if it was all just because of a slip in the ice and a knock on the head? No, but it couldn't be so simple. Things were never that simple.

"It's hard to say, when I don't know what's even going on," Chelsea said with a hand gesture, aching for a smoke. "... But she's a tough cookie. Whatever's got her into this so-called retreat, she's gonna give up a fight."

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Alba took a deep breath, giving themself one last chance to back out. She met Chelsea's eyes, and knew instantly it was too late to back out. They resigned themself to her deal-- a promise goes both ways, after all.

"Okay, but I'm gonna warn you, it isn't much," said Alba gravely. "For a while leading up to Ms. Hart's retreat, she was... how do I put this? Off. Sometimes even a little paranoid?" They nodded, more to themself than to Chelsea. "Yes, that's the right word for it. Being a little snappy isn't out of the ordinary for her, but this was... different than usual."

The very thought of it had Alba twisting the ends of her sleeves into a bunch. "It made me very nervous. Do you think Miss Hart is going to be alright?"

.

Chelsea's eyes grew bigger when Alba acknowledged they knew something. She leaned forward, listening closely.

And then she asked for her to leave her journalistic impulses at the door. If something had happened to Lorelai Hart, shouldn't the town be entitled to know? To keep a close eye on what might happen, on who could be next? But the reporter was no snitch. And, as much as it pained her, she did try her best to be as trustworthy as possible. Who knew? Maybe, later on, Alba would change her mind.

"I promise," Chelsea sighed. "I won't tell anyone, nor write about it."

Now, she thought, start talking.

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Alba bit her lip with worry. Their first instinct was to argue that nothing was wrong, after all, there was nothing suspicious about going on a retreat. But then why would the rest of the staff be so secretive about it? Business trips and the such didn't get anywhere near the same level of hush-hush as this.

"Well," Alba took a breath, "I guess if you think something might be wrong with Ms. Hart... then perhaps I should tell you."

Alba suddenly locked eyes with Chelsea, and gripped onto her forearms with an intensity that was foreign to her. "Please, I need you to promise not to tell anyone what I'm about to tell you. I know it won't be much... just... please. I can't put my internship on the line for this. Can I trust you?"

.

"Alba Laplan, I'm Chelsea Katz. Pleasure," she said, reaching with the hand that was still holding the cigarette. "Oh, shit, sorry. I forgot about it there for a minute."

She gave Laplan another glance. "I mean, I'm a reporter. It's going on record, but I won't write your name if you don't want me to." She put her cigarette away and scoffed a little. "Trust me, Lory doesn't mind. She knows I respect her too much to post lies and slander about her." It was better for her, and for everyone, for well-researched news to be spread rather than baseless gossip anyways.

Chelsea sighed at Alba's question. She had sent a message to Lorelai (several, in fact, and most of them photos of her cats in various absolutely adorable angles and situations) about five days earlier. No reply, not even an annoyed warning not to bother her with such nonsense, as Lorelai usually did. No worries, at least not yet. Then Chelsea had visited her at the office on Friday. She wasn't there either. She began to worry. And then she wasn't even at home, and Chelsea started to really panic. First there had been Alice's sudden and very concerning disappearance; then Rita's illness (which she had assumed was a severing of ties when she didn't reply to her messages, until she learned the truth –or at least as much of the truth as she could gather); and now, who knew what had happened to Lory?

"I've been looking for her for quite a while now, and I can't locate her anywhere. Not on the phone, not at the office, not at home... And I got a hunch she didn't just decide to go on an unannounced trip to the Bahamas for the winter holidays."

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"Enemies?" Alba sputtered out a laugh in disbelief. She wondered why this big hulking figure of a man cared enough to ask, especially with the reputation he had. Perhaps this was a massive prank the universe itself was playing on her. Maybe he was trying his hands at being a scam artist, and was going to swindle the money out of their pockets.

No. Alba shook her head like it would force the thought to leave. They were getting too anxious. Redwood Hollow wasn't that exciting.

"Not that I can think of," Alba said politely. They had to lean around him to check if she could see who could have thrown the snowball. He was just so large and imposing. They felt grateful that he seemed to have some kind of fondness or at the very least pity towards her. She didn't spot anyone trying to make an escape, so they resumed their place in front of Oz.

A thought occurred to her. "Unless... no, that would be silly."

"It's no problem....but it looks like someone has it out for ya, it seems." Oz said. He was curious too as to the source. He also wanted to see how they would react to such a claim. "Got any enemies in town?"

Oz looked them over. He did not know them yet, but he was now intent on it. Oz knew everyone.

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Alba's eyes went wide and she quickly shook her head. Energy drinks to keep themself working late into the night was about as far as she was willing to go. "No, I don't smoke, thanks. I'm Alba. Alba Laplan." They glanced at Chelsea's cigarette. "Um, I don't think you should do that inside, by the way."

Alba scrutinised the journalist, trying to remember exactly what purpose she was usually at the firm for. The way she was talking wasn't adding up. "What do you mean, confidential? Is this going on record? I'm only an intern, but I don't think Ms. Hart would take too kindly to being written about while she's away, even if it was by a friend." Alba frowned to herself. "Especially if it was by a friend."

The feeling in the pit of their stomach was getting worse, and she wasn't sure that it could be written off as anxiety anymore. Was Chelsea ever make social calls to the office? Or was she only ever there on business. Alba couldn't recall, their own head usually too buried in work to notice much else. "Please forgive me if I'm being rude, but why are you asking me? I'm sure it would be easier for you to find out from Ms. Hart herself?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to..." She did mean to. But she had to be nice. "But I bet you can spare a couple itty bitty minutes answering a few questions, right?" Chelsea said, with an attempt at a smile. Such things usually came easy to her. Today, though, nothing was easy. "Lory's usual, I'm guessing," she quietly scoffed, gesturing at the tray. "So... How're those odd jobs going, huh?" All reason cried out that this intern wasnt likely to know anything useful. Common sense also told her that she needed a careful touch with this girl, that the intern was the jittery type. Chelsea knew she would probably get more out of Montgomery, but he was nowhere to be seen. And Chelsea needed answers right now. "... Okay, forget it, let's cut right through the chase, blondie," she said, and pulled out her notepad and a pen. She would always rely on her memory first, but this time she needed that added air of professionalism. "What do you know about what happened to her?" One thing was police chief Pride, one thing was rich boy Legrand. Another thing entirely was Lorelai Hart. She was a badass. She was tough as nails, she was smart, she was always in control of the situation, even when not fully in control of herself. How could this have even happened?

"Oh, um..." Alba bit their lip nervously, glancing around as she tried to make eye contact with anyone that could swoop in and pull her out of this. Their hope died in their chest a moment later when it became clear that no one was going to come to her aid.

"You were friends with her, right?" Alba nodded to themself, confirming her recollection correct. A friend should have her best interests at heart, right? "I suppose it wouldn't do any harm in telling you... I pretty much know the same things as everyone else."

Alba glanced over their shoulder, like someone could be watching them. "Should we take this outside? We could talk it over drinks," she smiled weakly, gesturing at Lorelai Hart's morning order, "because it's not like I know what to do with this anymore, and I don't want my tea to go cold."

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"Sorry, I didn't mean to..." She did mean to. But she had to be nice. "But I bet you can spare a couple itty bitty minutes answering a few questions, right?" Chelsea said, with an attempt at a smile. Such things usually came easy to her. Today, though, nothing was easy. "Lory's usual, I'm guessing," she quietly scoffed, gesturing at the tray. "So... How're those odd jobs going, huh?" All reason cried out that this intern wasnt likely to know anything useful. Common sense also told her that she needed a careful touch with this girl, that the intern was the jittery type. Chelsea knew she would probably get more out of Montgomery, but he was nowhere to be seen. And Chelsea needed answers right now. "... Okay, forget it, let's cut right through the chase, blondie," she said, and pulled out her notepad and a pen. She would always rely on her memory first, but this time she needed that added air of professionalism. "What do you know about what happened to her?" One thing was police chief Pride, one thing was rich boy Legrand. Another thing entirely was Lorelai Hart. She was a badass. She was tough as nails, she was smart, she was always in control of the situation, even when not fully in control of herself. How could this have even happened?

"Oh, um..." Alba bit their lip nervously, glancing around as she tried to make eye contact with anyone that could swoop in and pull her out of this. Their hope died in their chest a moment later when it became clear that no one was going to come to her aid.

"You were friends with her, right?" Alba nodded to themself, confirming her recollection correct. A friend should have her best interests at heart, right? "I suppose it wouldn't do any harm in telling you... I pretty much know the same things as everyone else."

Alba glanced over their shoulder, like someone could be watching them. "Should we take this outside? We could talk it over drinks," she smiled weakly, gesturing at Lorelai Hart's morning order, "because it's not like I know what to do with this anymore, and I don't want my tea to go cold."

Alba stopped with a start, their eyes flitting around the office before turning into saucers when they landed on Chelsea. Dread pooled in her stomach. They weren't the only blonde in the room so she hoped to be lucky enough that the journalist wasn't addressing her, yet she had the sneaking suspicion that it was.

"Who, me?" Alba asked, pointing a finger at themself in disbelief. This was the last thing she wanted in the world. First their friend was kidnapped and mysteriously returned, now her boss was gone and their workplace was in shambles and her position in the internship and the subsequent college credit she was receiving were completely up in the air. It felt like their entire life was a piece of embroidery unravelling one thread at a time.

"I-- I'm just an intern! You don't want to talk to me. I only do odd jobs around here, I think you'd be better off talking to someone else... and, um, I'm also, like, really busy."

Alba lifted a takeout tray that had both her own hot beverage, and Lorelai Hart's usual morning order to prove her point. The latter was a responsibility she had picked up over the course of her internship, as well as a habit that it would likely take them a while to break.

They looked at Chelsea with expectant raised brows, hoping that her excuse would be accepted.

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Alba stopped with a start, their eyes flitting around the office before turning into saucers when they landed on Chelsea. Dread pooled in her stomach. They weren't the only blonde in the room so she hoped to be lucky enough that the journalist wasn't addressing her, yet she had the sneaking suspicion that it was.

"Who, me?" Alba asked, pointing a finger at themself in disbelief. This was the last thing she wanted in the world. First their friend was kidnapped and mysteriously returned, now her boss was gone and their workplace was in shambles and her position in the internship and the subsequent college credit she was receiving were completely up in the air. It felt like their entire life was a piece of embroidery unravelling one thread at a time.

"I-- I'm just an intern! You don't want to talk to me. I only do odd jobs around here, I think you'd be better off talking to someone else... and, um, I'm also, like, really busy."

Alba lifted a takeout tray that had both her own hot beverage, and Lorelai Hart's usual morning order to prove her point. The latter was a responsibility she had picked up over the course of her internship, as well as a habit that it would likely take them a while to break.

They looked at Chelsea with expectant raised brows, hoping that her excuse would be accepted.

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"So, everyone in this office's out for coffee? All at the same time?" Chelsea asked the secretary. A few interns and assistants who were left there still managed to look busy, rushing in and out of doors carrying big piles of paper and thick overflowing folders. They all seemed to be intentionally avoiding her. The reporter chewed on her lip and turned to face the secretary again.

"Listen. I know you know this, but in case you need a reminder, I'm with the Redwood Review, and I need a statement on this–" Just then her eye caught the passing figure of a familiar employee at the Hart law firm. Chelsea rushed away from the desk and towards the girl without giving it a second thought. What was her name again? Anna? Alma? Petra?

"Blondie! Hey, blondie!"

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"Oh my goodness!" Alba exclaimed, recognition dawning on her in an instant, Oz's reputation and rumours flashing through their mind. Her shaking hands shot out to dust off jacket. "I am so sorry! I don't even know where that came from!"

Unable to read the look on his face, she quickly stepped back as if touching him would burn her. They tried their best most grateful smile.

"Thank you for that." Her eyes flicked up between his face and hers, judging the distance. "If you hadn't stepped in front of me, I would have seen it too late and taken it right to the face." Alba let out a disbelieving laugh. "Who even threw that?"

Truth be told Oz was not sure why he had done it. Oz Borror and good deeds were never said in the same sentence. Oz would bet on his life that was true even since his birth.

Maybe the holidays had put him in a good mood. Maybe it was because such chaos had a solid 43% chance of being caused by one of his kids. Maybe he was just getting old.

Out in the midst of town a large snowball came shooting out like a canon at some unfortunate soul making their way through the town square. Right before it made contact with them, however, Oz stood in the way. It hit him square in the chest, but his broad torso seemingly spared the person before him.

"Well then, there's my good deed of the year," Oz said, his voice low and sarcastic. "You, my lucky, lucky friend, have won THE jackpot today. You should take advantage of that fortune at the casino."

@happieststarters