Frankincense and Myrrh [Maurelle]

[Christian Moynahan]

Frankincense to offer have I
Incense owns a Deity nigh
Prayer and praising, all men raising
Worship Him, God most high
-”We Three Kings” (in this case, Fuel)

Although he would have preferred a different venue, necessity dictated that Christian hold this particular meeting once again at Áine. He had three gifts to deliver; only one counted as an actual gift, but the nature of one of the others was sensitive enough that he did not want to risk anyone else catching wind of it. Soon it would be out his hands, and it would be up to his intended recipient to choose what to do with it.

This was his first Christmas in many respects. The first in Los Angeles, the first in a house, the first as a CEO, the first as the head of Ark Industries specifically, and the first with anyone he would have considered more than an acquaintance. There had been an office party at Ark the day before, during which everyone had gotten bonuses. That had been entertaining. Then he had given his employees the twenty-fourth, twenty-fifth, and twenty-sixth off, with the express understanding that they would return fired up and ready to work.

As for himself… he was accustomed to spending Christmas alone. He hardly celebrated it anymore. Due to the size of his house, he had decided to buy a very small Christmas tree for the living room. The tree was really tiny, such that only the smallest of presents could have fit underneath it. He did not expect to receive any gifts. In truth, he had no idea why he had bought it, nor why he had decorated it with lights and a little star at the top. His family had done that on the first day of December every year, and so had he this year.

He had sent them a Christmas card, a standard Hallmark sort with its own message inside so that all you had to do was scribble your name and send it off. That was exactly what he had done, as he had in every year past; they had done the same, his parents and sister all signing their name to the card and addressing it to wherever he happened to be living at the time. He had a birthday coming up as well, so they usually added “Happy Birthday” to the card as well.

This year, of course, their card had come to California. The envelope was in his mother’s handwriting, and, as always, the three of them had signed their names under the cutesy Christmas message. But - he noticed after the scribbles - on the left side of the card, there was written, in his father’s handwriting: We are proud of you, son.



He had cried for three minutes straight.



There was no one nearby to break his record of lonely Christmases, so he prepared once again to follow his usual routine. Gabriel was with his family in Hawaii, Lucius was with his family in New York, and… well, Alice might have been nearby, but in truth, he was so used to being alone that he doubted he would make a good host or guest, especially not with little Sharon around. He did his best to put up mental blocks, but that was not part of his abilities, and his attempts mostly involved thinking in old, small languages when he knew he was in the presence of a telepath; he was not fluent in those languages, but it seemed to help. The reason for the block was not that Christian did not want anyone reading his mind, but that his mind was a deep, dark place… and a telepath of the strongest order might have found it disturbing at best and impossible to escape at worst.

He did have one guest coming by that night. It was Christmas Eve, and the last gift he had to give out would be presented sometime after she arrived. Maurelle surely had her own plans for Christmas as well, but she had agreed to take some time out for the night for Christian. He doubted that she would regret it. He had a few surprises for her.

He was not sure how long she planned to stay, so he had bought and cooked enough food for the both of them in case she was hungry; if not, then ah well, he’d have leftovers. One of the formerly ignored but very helpful features of the house’s design was that the kitchen was closed off from every angle, so there was no permeating smell of food infecting everywhere, no need to Febreze the living room couch because he had cooked a turkey. And no reason for someone in the dining room to suspect he had cooked anything at all.

There was something in the dining room, however. That room hardly saw any use; it was not as comfortable as the living room, and Christian had yet to hold a gathering that required more seating than the living room. This would be appropriate, however. The dining room had windows that looked out on two sides, and a mirror, as well as a bar. It was here that he would lead Maurelle first, then to the living room if she preferred to stay and be more comfortable.

There were no text tricks this time. When Maurelle came calling at the front door, Christian simply opened it, and greeted her warmly. “Bonsoir, Mademoiselle Lacroix, et joyeux noël.” This time, rather than open to the door on her left, he opened the door on her right and allowed her to pass through before entering the dining room himself. “J'espère que vous allez bien et que vous ne travaillez pas trop fort ces jours-ci," he added with a small smile. “S'il vous plait asseyez vous. Je vous en prie, faites comme chez vous." As he had told her at their first meeting, his French was not very good, and he hoped he would not offend her if he made a mistake. “The chairs are more comfortable than they look,” he added with a small chuckle.

She would likely notice two highball glasses on the dining room table and a large, gift-wrapped box on one of the chairs, but otherwise there was nothing unusual about the room at all.

[Outfit.]

[Helena Rahal]

Fly me away
Take me from the snow and ice
To a world warm with hearth and flame
Far away from this land in which I dream

Maurelle was dressed warmly, despite knowing where she was going to be spending part of her evening. The winter had decided to grace north Texas once more after a week of fall like temperatures. Maurelle suspected that this time the chill of winter would last longer than just a week and a half but rather the duration of winter. Or at the very least what accounted for winter in Texas, the state having a normally shorter and more mild version of the season than that of the northeast.

A black coat was wrapped over her shoulders, but underneath she wore a royal purple off shoulder dress with black leggings that had silver sequins as snowmen. It was about as festive as she was going to get, the holiday honestly meant very little to her without anyone to share it with. Marie was half a world away, as was her family, and she hardly thought that Helena's wife and mother in law would appreciate her showing up for the holidays.

Instead she had taken up the invitation of Christian to visit him during the evening. She had teased him about getting a gift on the chat room and indeed she had gotten him an actual gift. Yet she had also gotten him a pair of gag gifts, trying to make up for all the jokes that he had decided to make at her expense. Harmless and playful gifts they were and would neatly hide her true gift for the CEO of Ark. It was surprisingly hard to shop for a man in his position, what do you get a man who could afford anything they desired?

All the same, she had found something that she thought was an apt and good gift for the man. Even if he failed to appreciate the gag gifts or even the true gift, it was the thought that mattered. That was the saying anyhow and surely the intent would not have passed him. He was far too overactive in that brain of his not realize those little subtleties.

Steadying herself after the teleportation, she walked calmly and confidently on the sidewalk and the path up to the front door before knocking. Unlike the previous trip to his residence, there was no games or waiting for his message to come around back. Instead he promptly answered the door and tried his best at speaking her native tongue, like he had during their first meeting. "Bonsoir monsieur Moynahan. Merci pour l'invitation."

Unexpectedly, he opened up the door to the right as she entered, when every visit before had been to the left. "Travailler? Travail arrive tous les jours et pas trop facile car ce petit événement à Los Angeles. Mais oui, j'ai personnellement travaillé très peu de ces jours." Rather than beat around the bush, she was honest but left it at that. This was supposed to be a merry time of gathering and cherishing friends and loved ones. "Je suis sûr qu'ils sont très à l'aise."

She took a moment to place the large wrapped box on the counter before taking her seat. She had noticed the pair of glasses on the table already and a gift in a seat already. Well was that not sweet of him, getting her a gift as well, quite unexpected. "The place looks lovely this evening and you are looking good yourself." It amused her that he was wearing pink, far be it from a seasonal color, but it still looked good on him.

"I hope I have not kept you waiting long. You know how it is, could not decide which shoes to wear with this dress." She said with a smirk, sliding her coat off her shoulders and onto the back of the chair. "I hope I am not too late for dinner and seeing just how good of a cook the mighty Christian Moynahan really is."

[Christian Moynahan]

So may I suggest, the secret of Christmas
It’s not the things you do
at Christmas time but the Christmas things you do
all year through
-Ella Fitzgerald, "The Secret of Christmas"

A smile was already on his face when she arrived; a real, genuine smile, one that only grew as she stepped inside. They were not here to talk business, not completely; they were here because it was Christmas Eve, and they simply chose to be in the other’s company for a while. Already it was better than most of his Christmases long past.

They were business partners; nonetheless; Christian could not help taking note of the dress Maurelle wore, and how it played along her form. Purple also happened to be one of his favorite colors, and, aside from the way she looked, he specifically appreciated the cut of the neckline.

She could not have picked a better dress.

He smiled to himself for a moment, then gave her a semi-serious look. “Tu est resplendissante,” he told her as they entered the dining room and he had a chance to fully appreciate her ensemble. She did look exceptionally beautiful to him, considering that he usually saw her in some form of a suit. He had not dressed up very much, and he certainly had no inclination towards colors and seasons. He was sure he had a forest green dress shirt in his closet somewhere. He had felt like wearing pink.

The mention of her work in Los Angeles caught him off guard for a moment. He had hoped he had not caused his friends too much trouble. However, she was clearly not complaining or trying to start a conversation on it; she was merely responding to his question. He nodded slowly and gave a faint smile to show that he understood. What he had done had gone very much against what would have helped her, but he’d felt he had to do it, and let the country face the consequences. And they were. Oh, but they were.

There had been a box in her hands as she entered; this she placed on the counter before taking one of the aforementioned comfortable seats. He had somewhat suspected a gift due to her comments on the chat, but had not fully expected one. He was amused, then, to she that she had indeed brought one. There was joking, and the chatroom, and then there was the real world; nothing had to hold between the two, especially when matters could be so anonymous there. He had an anonymous account of his own, and he referred to Maurelle as “Scáthach” or, more commonly, “Scath,” although he was fairly certain many of the chatroom’s patrons knew who she actually was already.

She commented on his appearance; that also brought a smile to his face. He had worked hard to return to his former shape, and was feeling much healthier overall for it. As for his manner of dress, he felt every color looked good on him, so he never missed a chance to wear odd colors and pair them with ties that were just as unusual. The pants, though, he usually played straight.

He chuckled softly and bowed his head. Being around her was somewhat humbling, It was because they shared a level of understanding, and of intellect. His friends and coworkers shared the latter, and he was not as arrogant with them as he could be at other times, but here, he seldom felt the need to make any sort of snarky comment that had any sense of malice behind it. “Thank you,” he said simply.

As for the place, it was settling into a pinkish-orange glow, the same sunset that fell over the home and the area on any clear day. It gave a sort of beauty to the dining room, casting its few decorations, in unusual, spectacular shades. Christian had yet to turn on any lights; he preferred to see the dining room in this light, and to see Maurelle glow in this light as well. “As for the dining room, I’m sure it appreciates your compliments as well.”

That had been a bit of snark, but with little foundation behind it. He raised an eyebrow as she commented on picking out her ensemble. “I was not waiting long at all. You are just on time. At any rate, you have chosen wisely.” Another comment to her appearance, this one less direct and more joking, but it was sincere nonetheless.

Her comment made it clear that she did want dinner. Christian smiled at that. Mighty? Perhaps. As with all things, time would tell. He most often cooked for himself, but he did cook - it kept him healthier than just catching fast food or eating out often, and it gave him practice for, albeit rate, occasions like this one.

He gave a slight bow. “I am but a man, Mademoiselle. I have my faults and my shortcomings,” he told her with a half-smile - and then a smirk. “But cooking is not one of those.”

He turned to face the kitchen, then made his way toward it. “However….” After a few seconds, he entered the dining room again, with a bottle in one hand and a pitcher in the other, and a cup of ice balanced on his arm. He placed each of them on the dining room table, next to the highball glasses. “When we first met, you asked for pastis, or at least a Provencal wine. I was able to provide something that fairly passed muster. Tonight I thought I might try a different route.”

Indeed, the bottle was marked as a pastis from her own home region. It had not been easy to locate, not for an American who had only learned something of French culture during his schooling. The pitcher of water was to dilute the pastis, which, of course, was important; depending on her preference, Maurelle might place the ice first and then the pastis and water, or the reverse. Christian, who had learned all of this from conversations with bartenders and the Internet, was not as at home drinking it and would likely follow Maurelle’s lead.

He gave her a smile as he took a seat at a corner from her. “I hope ‘better late than never’ applies in this situation.”

[Maurelle Lacroix]

Move right past the moon
On the way to the stars
Ever beyond our reach

Maurelle was pleased to see that his demeanor was vastly different to that which he had during her previous trip to his residence. Different times and different strokes she supposed, much had changed in those few weeks since that visit. Had things not gone a certain way, well there was a very good chance that they would be having this meeting in a federal prison, or maybe some country that didn't have extradition treaties with the States after Maurelle liberated him from his cell. That however had not come to pass and instead they were here in his much too large for a single man residence and enjoying each other's company for however long it lasted.

"If the dining room fails to appreciate the compliment, well then it would have to get in line to put its wonderful shaped lips to my posterior." Oh there was that snark that she was infamous for among her peers and associates. It had a way of being quite annoying to them but particularly to those who did not know her or even begin to understand her. Maurelle was ultimately confident that everything she did she would succeed at and for the most part she had been.

It gave her an air of confidence, of ego, and a playful demeanor with everything, on the surface anyhow. It kept herself from letting anything that truly bother her ever be known, even the best of body readers would think it was just more of her act. Only telepaths and other feeling and thought reading Specials would be able to know when she was not at her best, when it was just not another one of her ploys to get what she wanted. It had become her shield, from herself and the world, to know that Maurelle Lacroix did in fact have feelings.

"You should know that a mafia boss is never late, nor are they early, they arrive entirely when they mean to." So she was borrowing a bit of literature and mixing it around about. She was fairly sure that Christian would have read this particularly book and have gotten a laugh out of the allusion to the quote and the character who spoke it. Not that she saw herself quite up to that stature... not yet at any rate, but soon, very soon she might just be of that caliber.

It seemed though that her host was in fact a decent cook by the way he acted to her little quib. It seemed she would not be having to don the apron this evening after all or making a quick run to some sort of fast food place. That was if Christian really was as good as a cook as he was implying he was and if he had prepared a dish that she found desirable. While hardly picky, there were a few dishes served around the holidays that Maurelle was not overly fond of.

He surprised her though when he produced a bottle of pastis, along with a pitcher of water and pale of ice cubes. It seemed that he had gone to some measure to make himself known about the strange beverage of her homeland and done his best to replicate what a Christmas for her back in her homeland would be like. Why, that was awfully sweet... and perhaps even a bit romantic. If Maurelle did not know any better, she would think that Christian was making a move on her, but that was not possible, was it?

"I imagine CEOs are quite like mob bosses." Maurelle gave him a grin and then poured herself a glass of the drink, filling the glass halfway with the pastis, followed by the water, and at last a pair of ice cubes. She waited for Christian to pour himself a glass as well before offering a toast. "To providence and good fortune." Taking a sip of the drink, her eyes then looked at the gifts present and she formed another smile.

"Food or gifts first?"

[Christian Moynahan]

Hear the sirens
covering distance in the night
The sound echoing closer
Will they come for me next time?
-Pearl Jam, “Sirens”

There were many disciplines in which Maurelle could match - or beat - him, and one of those was snark. Christian chuckled as Maurelle very daintily told his dining room to kiss her ass. Indeed, the atmosphere was very different than it had been during their last meeting at Áine - that one had been little more than business, as well as their first encounter at all, aside from his communication with her to meet him at his home in the first place. This was just a dinner and exchange of gifts.

He prided himself on being able to read people, which had gone to his choice of dinner and also given suggestions of what to get her as a present. The first he had gone with completely; the second, he had been less certain about. There was only so much one could purchase for a woman who floated somewhere between “business partner” and “close friend.” Add that to the fact that she could and probably had purchased anything she wanted, and the decision became that much more difficult. In the end, he had followed his instincts. They hardly steered him wrong.

She made a reference to a movie line, but with a slight alteration. He laughed openly, his head tilted to the side as he looked at her. “I’m not sure whether Gandalf the Gray would have appreciated that, but I do.” He was far from being a mafia boss, and had never been one, but they were not so far removed from society… not when it came to her, at least. She was a businesswoman, a legitimate one, above all else; and there was a human side to her, perhaps one that she might not want others to see, but that Christian imagined he did, simply because it was reflected in himself.

As for the dishes… he thought he had read Maurelle well enough to know what to serve for her. A failure on that end would likely not be taken as a terrible problem, but would have been a bit disappointing to Christian himself. He had enjoyed the chance to cook, however, and was glad Maurelle did want to take part in it. Cooking was one of the very many things Christian had taught himself to be good at; this was one he had to be very good at, as he could not afford to have himself or anyone else he cooked for suffer from food poisoning.

He had a tendency to brag about everything, even things he was only passingly good at; his self-defense skills were one of those, although, as Nireva found, his flexibility and ability to move quickly were nothing to be taken lightly. But in this he was not simply bragging. This was true enough, just as true as the reason he had brought the pastis.

Was Christian making a pass at her? Not exactly. What he felt for Maurelle, first and foremost, was respect. That respect manifested in many ways, such as giving her a nickname, albeit in part to hide her identity. And, as much as he teased her about her height, she was a beautiful woman, and he saw that. He was certain many or most men and women would find her physically attractive.

As he had tried to explain to her in the chatroom, he was asexual; he did not feel that same sort of attraction. In his case, however, asexual did not mean the same thing as virgin… and he would have been lying if he said he had not imagined what it would be like with her… but he was not imagining that at the moment. At the moment, he was acknowledging that respect, which could have been taken as “romantic” in a more platonic way.

There was another part of the trio he had for her, however, the first having been the pastis. The second, he knew just about when it would be presented. There was plenty of food; they would get to that in due time. They would have some of the pastis first, as the thing about the drink was that it apparently did not pair well with anything. There were actually two bottles of pastis in his house; the first he had used in deciding what best to cook. He had gotten the preparation of the pastis slightly wrong, compared to Maurelle’s handling of it, but now he felt it was close enough to have served as a fair judge.

He served the pastis and its accessories, and she proposed a toast, to which Christian smiled and raised his glass. “To providence and good fortune… and to this.” As he took a sip of his drink with the highball glass in his right hand, he removed a tiny box, too small to contain any jewelry, and clearly designed to protect its contents. This he placed on the table, near to Maurelle, as he placed the glass in his other hand on the table also.

He gestured toward the box. “Open it.”

The box had two latches on the side that had to be lifted up and snapped into place, and an oval, numbered lock in the middle, extremely tiny on a box so small. It would be a wonder that Maurelle’s small hands could manage it, much less Christian’s, even though the man did have slender fingers. “Two-three-eight-five,” he said as she reached the combination lock. In the moment, it would be understandable if Maurelle did not notice what the combination was, but it would be impressive if she did.

Once Maurelle opened the box and lifted its top, she would find a pill inside. One single, small, white tablet, with a dove impressed on it, just as one might find on a tablet of ecstasy. Once she looked up, Christian smiled.

“There are many legitimate medications that grow or reduce tolerance on them to protect the user from potentially harmful side effects. We simply followed the basis of the latter.” He tilted his head slightly. “MDMA was one of the easy ones. We’ll work our way up from there.” He nodded toward the box. “That is the first one. You can keep it, if you like. Alain’s team is mass-producing them as we speak.”

He folded his hands. He was proud of his work; it had been his effort, largely, with Alain Jensen's assistance - a secret was only as secret as those who kept it - and the results on the test subjects, all volunteers, had been exceptional. “The initial exposure to the drug will produce the same high as the original. Successive exposure will cause the user to lose the need and desire for the drug.” A seriousness came over his expression now. “Be careful. Once the demand lowers, the suppliers will most certainly look for the cause of it. Lead them to me.”

He had laid himself on the line before, with the famine, and it had almost not turned out well for him. However, “almost” was good enough for him in this case. She had her team, of course, her bodyguards, but he had himself. There was no reason to sour the mood, however; the discussion on that matter would be brief, and would soon turn to her own question: food or gifts?

“Why not both?” He gave her a grin and rose to enter the kitchen. When he returned, he had two plates on a tray in his hands. “Your onion rings and your spinach-artichoke dip, ma’am,” he said with a smirk; those were often found in restaurants, but this was no restaurant. What he placed in front of them instead were a plate of deviled eggs and a bowl of pasta salad. A slight trip to a drawer behind him, and he produced a full set of silverware, and, in fact, set the exact way etiquette demanded, just as he had with Alex some time ago.

They would start with the appetizers, and then, once the gift-giving was done, move on to the main course, he figured. All that needed to be served warm was still warming in their respective places. He hated having to microwave in these situations; the microwave had a way of drying things out. “You first,” he said, an eyebrow raised, ready for her response.

[Maurelle Lacroix]

I am not alone
Not given up just yet
I am not afraid
Of the voices in my head
Down the darkest road
Something follows me

Maurelle raised an eyebrow as Christian expanded upon her toast and produced a small box. For a moment she thought it might have been jewelry, another gift to give between the two, yet a closer glance had her reconsider. It was far too small to hold any ear rings or a necklace that could have possibly fit around her neck, plus she noted a small combination lock on the opening. Whatever was inside this container had been something that Christian had clearly wanted to hide from anyone deciding to snoop around his residence.

Almost as if on cue, he revealed the combination that would unlock it as she was about to ask. That caused her to grin, it seemed he had taken another personal touch, or had been very very lucky in crafting the combination. Few and far between were those who knew Maurelle's actual birth date. Knowing Christian however, he had managed to find out when it was and that those four numbers were the combination was no coincidence at all.

Inside there was something expected but unexpected as well, a pill, very much like what one would expect to see out of ecstasy. She had expected results but nothing this quick, especially not with everything that Christian had gone through the past month. As she looked up, there was a smile, one that was full of pride for overcoming a challenge that even Christian himself had thought quite monumental. It seemed progressing on her project was going very well indeed and Christian's would be assistant was now mass producing the first in the line of her placebos.

"I have risked too much too allow things to flounder and fail at this late juncture, not when the prize is within sight." Maurelle responded confidently, holding the pill between her fingers and looking at it. Such a small thing would result in such a shift in the entire setting, would tip the balance of every equation that she was a part of. This was her ace in the hole and she was not about to see its great measure put to waste because of being careless. "All the preparations are or will be in place when that time comes."

It seemed that Christian was of the mind to have his cake and eat it to, as the saying went. Rather than have one or the other, he was suggesting that they open their gifts as they ate, which Maurelle was not adverse to in the least. It certainly would make things interesting for her, especially with the gag gifts concealing her actual gifts to him. His reaction would be quite priceless she surmised, as they were definitely a bit on the crazy side of things, yet so was she. "Oh, go on then."

He left and returned to the dining room with a grin and yet it was the food that made her laugh. "Oh how very unconventional of you." She teased as she took the plate of the fried onions and the dip, it certainly was not the traditional holiday foods that she had hoped to avoid. Instead it was something completely and utterly different, how very amusing. On the other plate was something more along the lines she expected to see with the eggs, though the pasta salad was certainly another surprise he produced.

She picked up an onion ring and bit into it as he suggested that she go first. Now did that mean she opened her gift first or that she offered hers to him first? Well she was the guest in the house, so she decided that he meant the former of course, why would it not? With a grin, she picked up the gift from the seat it was resting on and slowly began to remove the wrapping from the package.

"What oh what could this little gift be? What oh what could a CEO ever gift for a scandalous woman like me?"

[Christian Moynahan]

There’s trillions of cash and there’s billions of us
And there’s millions of things that can happen with this stuff
And there’s thousands that will crash and there’s hundreds that will smash
But there’s only one you, and I’ma drink to that
-M.I.A., “Only 1 U”

A smile of pride found its way onto Christian’s lips. He was glad she was as proud of it as he was. Already they had begun working on the next one, another simple project, one which Christian expected would be finished very shortly. The tough ones would be handled in time, as his team got into the groove of things, as it were. But Maurelle would have everything she needed in a matter of months. While this was not an Ark matter, not by leaps and bounds, there was a reason Ark was the foremost corporation of its kind.

She examined the pill delicately, sounding confident as she spoke. Christian felt as confident as she sounded. He had no personal gain in the matter, not aside from what he had mentioned before - the thrill of the challenge - but it was heartwarming, in an odd way, to see how that one pill marked such confidence in her. It easily made the work worth it.

He was certainly the type of man to go for the third option, given two choices, so he suggested appetizers and presents. The main course he would save for after the gifts. Those were, of course, waiting for them in the kitchen.

He liked to think that he could read people well. Combining their few meetings together, he guessed that he was better off serving poultry rather than red meat, which fit because the red meat did not go as nicely with the pastis. Yet fish made an awful Christmas Eve dinner, at least in his opinion, and she might well have had had turkey and ham for Thanksgiving. He went over his readings again; no, like him, she had more likely spent Thanksgiving alone. Still, she did not have the temperament of someone who preferred much turkey. So, that left….

Ham was an option, but he let it pass without much of a thought. It was too close to red meat when served properly. What he had gone with instead was far more showy than it should have been; but then, anyone who knew Christian knew he was likely to be showy. If he thought there was the off chance he would be cooking for someone, why not go the full way?

That meant there were two Cornish hens baked with lemon and seasoning, as well as mashed potatoes and vegetables on the stove and salad in the fridge. Dessert had always been a failing point for him, as far as “failing” could go for him in terms of cooking, but he tried his best with a homemade strawberry cheesecake that had been made the day before.

Those would be presented later. Hopefully they would meet with success. For now, he glanced Maurelle’s way as she wondered aloud what he might get for her. He had meant it the other way around - that she should go for her gifts and present hers first - but he would not disagree on that point. He was simply a touch nervous regarding what he had gotten her versus what she might have gotten him. There was a sort of leveling there that had to be considered. That being said, she would never, ever be able to guess the worth of her present. Even if she had it appraised.

“Well, then, let’s solve that mystery.” He would hardly think of her as “scandalous,” just as he never thought of her as a “mafia boss.” Either might have been fitting descriptors, but they simply never attached themselves to her in his mind. “Oh, you’ll want to be careful with that,” he said, and very gently removed the box from her hands before she finished unwrapping it. He rose, and indicated for her to follow. Once she did, he placed the box ever so carefully on the bar and then stepped to the side so she could finish unwrapping it. Her focus might be on the gift; however, if she happened to glance up, she might see a mirror in front of them.

Once she did unwrap the first box, she would find a second, smaller box to unwrap, and once she unwrapped that one, she would find a third box, and, upon unwrapping that box, she would find…

…nothing.

As she finished unwrapping the last box, he slipped behind her and drew her true present around her neck, clasping it so that it fell along her chest naturally. With the dress she had chosen, the necklace matched well, and just made the line of her dress’ blouse.

It was a fringe necklace, one with a platinum chain that went around her neck, ending in a typical lobster clasp, which made it adjustable. The platinum’s small links followed her neckline at eighteen inches, just at her collarbone. Light, thin crystals hung from the necklace, seemingly delicate, but tougher than they appeared on touching them. Those crystals reflected light easily and beautifully; at the moment, they reflected the dim light of the sunset, as Christian had yet to turn on the lights in the room. The crystals hung at a length of twenty-four inches at longest, at just about the middle of her chest.

There was a story behind the necklace, of course. While wondering what kind of gift to find for Maurelle, an idea had struck him, but he had found nothing anywhere similar to what he had in mind - and he had looked. Finally he had given up, in a manner of speaking; he found a jeweler who was able to make the piece from Christian’s designs. The venture was not as expensive as one might guess; Christian was an excellent negotiator - and swindler. He’d had the jeweler engrave Maurelle’s initials into the platinum, near the center of the necklace. That took away, unwittingly, the jeweler’s ability to argue that he could sell the necklace to someone else for a higher price; unless he found someone with those exact initials who wanted that exact necklace, it wasn't going to happen. Thus, Christian had been able to set the terms. He had not robbed the man, but he hadn’t emptied his own pockets, either.

He led her a little closer to the mirror. Hopefully he had read her correctly and this was something she would like. Not simply say “it’s lovely” for his benefit, but to actually think was beautiful. It had come directly from his mind.

“The CEO thought he should get something a bit like her,” he said, speaking low, close to her ear. “Brilliant and unlike anything else in the world.” And, for its part, he thought the necklace did look beautiful on her, but then again, he was a bit biased.

He stepped back and let her inspect the necklace. “What do you think?” he asked in what he hoped came across as a very casual tone.

(Incidentally, fin Christian.)

[Maurelle Lacroix]

I want to be pushed aside
So let me go

He wanted her to be careful with the item did he, hrmm it was breakable then. Which was odd, considering how petite the gift itself was, as her mind raced through small and breakable things that he might have gotten her. Yet as she unwrapped the box, she found a smaller box inside of that one, was this going to be like a Russian doll? Would this box contain within it another box of smaller magnitude and then her gift finally be in there? Or perhaps he might have been playing a joke on her, like she had meant to with her gag gifts.

However as she removed the top of the box and opened it to find nothing, she gasped. What was he playing at, a gift with nothing in it, was this some sort of trick that she was not getting? Yet as she begin to think this was just another one of his jokes, as making fun of her was a common event for him, he did something completely and utterly unexpected.

He was there behind her clasping the most unique necklace around her neck, draping the crystals along the fringe of her dress. They were platinum crystals she could tell as she took a better look at the beautiful piece of jewelry now around from her neck and the center crystal... it had her initials engraved. This had not been a cheap or quick gift to get her at all, there had been a lot of thought and effort put into this. "It is the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen. Thank you very much for this radiant gift Christian." Perhaps he would pick up on the fact that she actually used his name, perhaps not.

This gift though, it shamed her, it made her wonder if what she had brought for him was adequate now. The true gift was thoughtful but it had not put her back a small fortune, not like she expected this necklace had done for him. And then there were the gag gifts, something a bit humorous to lighten the mood and expectation. Perhaps they would still serve their purpose... or perhaps they would ruin the mood and sentiment. A hundred different possibilities and thoughts ran through her head, yet one of them had to come true.

She gave him one of the first genuine soft smiles she had ever given him. This was no wry grin, no smirk, but an actual smile full of happiness and joy of the moment. She moved to the side and pulled her wrapped box towards where they were standing and began to unceremoniously tear through the wrapping without a word. Once the wrapping was removed, she handed the rather large box over to Christian and waited for his surprise.

The first thing he saw when he removed the top was a cat o' nine tails, it only seemed fitting given all the sexual jokes he had made at her expense. And underneath that was a pair of three inch heeled black leather boot, for reasons that he would no doubt find very amusing. "Don't stop there, the fun is just beginning." She said playfully, egging him on to get to the true gifts. Once he removed the boots, he would find what she had truly intended for him for the holiday.

"Merry Christmas Christian." She said, once more in her more gentle and sweet voice. There wrapped in protective bubble wrap was a pair of bottles of wine, very precious and expensive wine that normally would have cost to go through customs. Ah the benefits of having a teleporter, one less cost that had to be sunk. One was a brilliant red wine from Bordeaux, the city in where she was birthed and had a secret home. While it was not as good as Pastis from her home in Marseille, it was still a good wine, as was the other, a radiant white from Venice.

"Every good leader needs some excellent wine, especially when they have landed among the stars when shooting off so recklessly into space."

FIN