Dear Santa - How I spent Christmas Eve

[Hera]

Hera sat, feet propped up on an R2-D2 droid shaped pouffle, her black enamelled toenails wiggling irritibly inside her fluffy Yoda slippers as she contemplated her next move.

She had long ago tired of the chess game she was playing with Mephis - a boring, duty-bound slug of a man if ever there was one. Oh, he was pretty enough but you'd think the amount of rum and eggnog Hera had plied on him would have atleast loosened his noble, chivilrick-ish-like tongue just a tad and he would tell her where Tear kept his armory key, or spill some juicy dirt on his fellow officers. At the least, give her something on that mutton chop, Naberius. Anything to break the monotony of waiting for the fat man in the fur-trimmed suit.

She had been told that he would come in the night, and down the fireplace no less. For frack sake, what was wrong with using the door? And what about the flames? That was gonna be some trick and Hera was determined to see it.

Tear had told her that this Father Christmas legend was a load of propaganda, initially started by the Sith and the story today was not even close to the reality of its original state. He hinted that it was the rebels who had white-washed it and soft-sold it to the masses as a means to divert the focus of them losing the war. But one should never trust what Tear says too fully.

Hera was curious, it was true. Did this perfect stranger really bring a person their most dearest desires? Did he really know if someone had behaved all year and could determine if they belonged on the good or bad list? Tear called it the 'naughty' and 'nice' list...but then, Tear would.

Mephis said it was a load of bumpkin and there was no such thing as a benevolent and generous being just waiting to lavish the unworthy, yet often well-meaning, minions with gifts and favor. And Hera was inclined to agree. No one, and that means NO one gave something for nothing.

She lifted the glass of milk and slurped from it rudely.

"Thats for the Santa" Mephis said, displeased.

Hera reached for the cookies, but Mephis slapped her hand aside. "Them too"

"But you said there was no such thing" Hera snapped, defensive. "Who's gonna know?"

"He will" assured Mephis.

"But you said he isn't real" she said, again reaching for the cookies.

"That isnt the point. Are you going to move?"

"What?"

"Its your turn to move" Mephis said with the longsuffering whine of a saint.

Hera snarled, "When's Tear getting here? He's bringing Naboo noodles. Check-mate."

Mephis leaned closer to examine Hera's latest move. It was indeed check-mate. He hadn't seen that coming.

"There is no Santa" he said churlishly, and took the cookies for himself.

[Old Man Russard]

The Old Man didn't really mind this time of year, not really. It was just that he'd lived through so many of these festive seasons and the magic of it was starting to get a little lost on him these days.

There were the decorations, which he supposed looked pretty. And the constant aroma of baking just out of the oven, well, that never really ever lost its appeal. He always had been a sucker for those little butter tarts and Rosemarie in the kitchen knew it, damn the woman. He'd put on ten pounds just eating them alone. And, people did he supposed, make an extra effort to be kind, or even just more civil, to one another around this time of year. And that was as it should be, it was how it used to be once.

He was a man from another generation, another time and the galaxy had changed alot since he was a young man. This house, too, had changed. The great meteor storm earlier this year had wrought so much damage to the Estate and necessitated a lot of rebuilding, which had not only changed the structure of the house, but the feel of it too.

Jason closed his eyes and allowed he warmth of the fire burning in the hearth to lull him to an almost day-dream state. Seated in his wheelchair with a soft blanket across his knees, the old man remembered..

Jason was a young man, much younger that his own son was right now, when he became the proud new owner of the buildings and surrounding lands. A self-made man, Jason was moving up in the world and wanted something more substantial than some Penthouse Apartment in Imperial Center, or Coruscant, as he was still calling it then. He wanted something a little more respectable, a little more commanding. Jason had been a prize fighter who had made some canny associations throughout his short career, investing and speculating on not-quite legal enterprises that garnered him some very substantial returns. The Old Man smiled, remembering those days - the glory days, as his son labelled them. And they were too, by his reckoning. They were good times and he missed them now and then, but only as an old man looking back truly can - not with longing or regret, but with a sense of accomplishment and pride that despite not really knowing what the hell he was doing, he had the fight in him to go out and do something.

He still felt that fight within him, but it was a different beast altogether now, tempered by age and waged by wisdom. It was directed inward, not to gain, but to preserve and to protect -his family, his personal empire, his home. The Old Man didn't know why, but he always felt a little uneasy at this time of the year, almost as if all the good things had to be counter-weighted in the cosmos somehow and at some point the scales had to tip to bad.

But for now, he was content - surrounded by a beautiful family - a son, dutiful and successful; a grand-daughter who had already exceeded any expectations he may have had, and who Jason felt was only on the cusp of her bright future. The boyfriend, Cristobal, was a little sketchy. The Old Man found he agreed with Kazaar on that issue, though he couldnt really say why. Kazaar's reasons were easy to determine as Aurelias rarely likes anybody. Except he likes Mili, but then, everyone likes Mili.

The library door opened and Lissell entered, a tray set with a plate of tarts and a stiff drink in her hand. "Enjoying the quiet?" she asked softly as the Old Man cracked open one eye to look at her.

"Just counting my money" Jason said gruffly, helping himself to the offered baking.

Lissell grinned, "Well count fast, everyone's arriving and you know how loud that Kazaar is. A body cant think a straight line when he's around"

[Bambi Maddox]

"Top pocket, right"

Maddox toffed the tip of her pool cue with the chalk cube and puffed away any residue with a throaty breath. Bending her long frame over the table, three-inch boot heels adding an extra stretch to an already adequate reach, the blonde assassin allowed a self-indulgent grin, "Bet you're wishin you never put up that Blaster Buster as wager now, huh Vorogath?" Her Barabel opponent pulled back reptillian lips and 'sissed.'

"Hey, Im not the one who suggested it" she said, lining up her shot. "You can thank Naga for that" Maddox never took her eye from the ball and she didn't need to in order to know the Barabel had shifted his gaze and his aggreivance momentarily from her and over to Xel Naga, who was sitting quietly at a small table across from them. Losing had not been a part of the Barabel's expectation.

Naga had been lazily watching, not really interested in the outcome of the game, but alert to his surroundings - a habit borne from experience and a trait one would expect from an operative of the Black Nebula. If he was annoyed at Maddox for scape-goating him, he didn't show it but merely sipped his drink unhurriedly.

"Of course, if I do win your gun" Maddox ploughed on, "I intend to give it to Xel, y'know as a gift, season of giving and all that. We have a bit of a bumpy past, ol' Xel and me. This will be a nice gesture on my part, dont you think?" The Barabel 'sissed' louder. "..So, you know it will be appreciated and get some good use, if that makes you feel any better"

Maddox took the shot and gave Vorogath a wink the instant the eight ball dropped into the top right-hand pocket. "Good game" she said magnanimously, while keeping hold of the pool cue as she had a feeling it might yet be of further use.

Vorogath cursed in Barabel and lunged at Maddox, who did not entirely not anticipate such a move. She swung the cue akin to a twirlling baton and struck three quick raps - one against each of the grappling, grasping claws, and another to the forehead, just for insult.

The blows bounced off without any real damage, serving to arrest Vorogath's forward momentum more than anything else. The reptillian roared in aggrivation and snatched the stick from Bambi's hands, snapping it in half against his thigh. Maddox kicked up a booted heel and collected the Barabel in the chest, stumbling him backwards into the bar. Vorogath snatched up the closest thing handy - a bottle of Corellian whiskey - and smashed its end off against the polished countertop, and staggered warily forward towards Maddox. Naga sipped from his drink and placed it neatly back on its coaster.

"Now, now, dont let this get nasty" Maddox sang out, pulling a chair and lifting it in front of her. She positioned herself behind it defensively like she'd once seen a nexu wrestler in a circus do. Vorogath grabbed the chair by the foot and yanked on it hard, pulling out of Bambi's hands and tossing it aside. "I guess that only works with nexu.." Bambi had time only to duck before the glass-weilding Barabel took a swipe at her, missing her throat by mere inches. Head down, she barrelled into Vorogath, torpedoing herself into his midsection with such force that the pair of them careened back onto an empty table, which duly collapsed beneath their combined weight, leaving them both grappling in the debris for a stranglehold on each other. From her twisted position of up under Vorogath's armpit, Maddox blinked. She couldn't be sure, but she thought Naga had just ordered himself another drink. And this one had an umbrella.