[hider=Sandy Claus and the Three Hunters] There was a point when Christmas was near where one would be lucky to find a radio station that wasn’t either discussing the holiday season or belting out Christmas carols uninterrupted through day and night, so after some time of messing with the dials, Sand had given up and left her car’s radio on one of these music stations. Lyrics sung in a soothing baritone hung over the background noise as she drove through the streets of Vale. Her scroll rang on the passenger seat, and she looked away from the road for a second to identify the caller. Seeing the name, she quickly took the call and set it on speaker. “Hey Sand,” came the male voice from her phone. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” “Hi Allen. No,” she said as she lowered the radio’s volume. “Just doing a grocery run. Did something happen?” “Just calling to see how you’re doing.” “Good, good,” she said distractedly. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you.” “That’s new,” Allen commented. “What about?” Sand hummed, not particularly fond of that dig at her. “Well, I’ve been getting presents for the people in my team. My placement there wasn’t under the most pleasant of circumstances, and I still feel somewhat out of place when I’m around them. I thought some Christmas cheer could help.” “And you want me to help you pick the gifts?” he guessed. “No, I already picked them.” “On your own?” She hummed an affirmative, and heard a sound like sucking air through the phone. “I don’t suppose you just decided to give each of them a bar of chocolate and be done with it.” “No, that’s too little,” she quickly brushed him off. “I wanted it to be more meaningful.” “Sand,” the voice said frankly, “your gifts tend to suffer when you put thought into them.” “That’s rude. And here I thought you liked my gifts.” “You’ve given me an Allen wrench every year since you were twelve,” he said, deadpan. “It was charming the first time, but I’m a mechanic named Allen. I’ve heard the pun a million times. Don’t you think the joke has run its course?” “The joke will run its course when I see you use one of them,” she shot back. “And I sent you something else with it last Christmas.” “You sent me chocolate. Didn’t you just say that was too little?” “I can just send you the hex key on its own if you don’t like the candy.” The grumbling coming from the other side of the phone put a small smile on Sand’s lips. “Okay,” she heard after a moment. “I’ll bite. What did you get for them?” “You remember Trad? The one with the pony-tail.” “What about him?” “I wasn’t really quite sure what to get him.” [hr] [i]A book, maybe? But I don’t think I’ve ever seen him read for fun. It would be a waste if I got him a book and it just sat on his nightstand gathering dust for the next three years. Clothes may be better. Then again, I’m not sure what he likes. Maybe I could just pick something green. Half his clothes are green anyway. [/i] Sand’s thoughts turned and twisted this way and that as she walked past the stores of her favorite mall. The place was just beginning to get busy as people rushed to make their Christmas shopping, and red and green adorned most of the storefronts she passed by. To be perfectly honest, she hated coming up with gift ideas. She always had trouble thinking of good ones. The fact that she was on a budget only made things more difficult. Useful gifts tended to be either too expensive or too boring. She could get everyone a new set of pens and know that they’d use them if only because they were in a school, but unless the pens were special in some way the gift would simply be uninspired. Maybe she should just get everyone a bar of chocolate and be done with it. [i]Who in their right mind doesn’t like chocolate anyway? If only it didn’t feel so much like a cop out. [/i] Absentmindedly, she walked into a small kiosk, eyes slowly going through the display stands. Suddenly, they stopped at a small shelf. In it, several lighters with colorful designs and reliefs stood, facing her. [i]Trad is a smoker, isn’t he? [/i] It was a stupid habit as far as she was concerned. There was something absurd about pumping your lungs full of smoke on purpose. That said, as long as he did not smoke in the room itself, she couldn’t bring herself to make a fuss about it. Still, she reached in and pulled out a squat, thick lighter with a green dragon painted on its side. The mouth was drawn in such a way that it opened when one she flicked the lid up with a click. She looked at it for a moment, then let it close with a clack. Click. Clack. It was somewhat soothing. Therapeutic, even. Click. Clack. Maybe she should get one for herself. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Clickclackclickclack. A cough interrupted her examination and she looked up to see the cashier at the counter giving her an irritated look. She stared back awkwardly for a few moments before raising up the lighter. “How much for this one?” [hr] “I thought you hated smoking,” Allen, commented. “Aren’t you afraid you’re encouraging his habit?” Sand shrugged noncommittally, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Not really. And you can use lighters for other things. I may start a collection. I like them in general.” “Since when?” “Well, one of my teammates from Atlas once gave me one of those thick, metal ones. Had the Schnee Corp. logo on it. Sometimes I play with it when I’m bored.” “Did you say ‘play’? I imagine I don’t have to say that I hope I won’t hear about any fires in your dorm.” “Don’t worry. There are several more likely arsonists running around than me.” “Oh. Lovely. That makes me feel a lot better.” She had the sudden mental image of someone rubbing their face with their hand. “What about the others?” “I told you about Grane, right?” [hr] Snake-skin boots. Light gleamed off the scaled patterns as Sand walked around the stand, admiring the— [hr] “You got the snake Faunus snake-skin boots!?” She winced slightly at the volume of the incredulous question. “Of course not.” There was an awkward pause in the conversation. “You tried to, didn’t you?” [hr] Sand brought the boots over to the counter. “I can’t find the price tag on these. How much are they worth?” “Just give me a second,” the attendant lady said as she took the footwear and passed a scanner over the bar tag at its sole. The number immediately popped up in the cashier for Sand to see. Sand pursed her lips, nodding slowly. Then, without so much as a glance back, she walked out of the store. [hr] “I fail to see the issue anyway. Would you flip out if I got a cow or bull Faunus a leather jacket? He could have given them back to me if he didn’t like them, in any case.” There was a small pause, then, “Those boots were your size, weren’t they?” Sand didn’t answer. “Do you even know his foot size?”, he prodded. And again when her silence continued, “Sand?” “Sorry, I’m trying to make a turn at an intersection and this guy is cutting me off.” “Right.” “Left, actually.” Allen sighed. “Fine. So what did you get him?” “I found a hoodie on sale. It should fit him.” “That sounds better.” “It has snake eyes on the hood.” There was an unsurprised grunt. “You’re hoping he’ll let you keep it.” Sand couldn’t help but notice that that was not phrased as a question. “Well, [i]I[/i] liked it.” “Of course you did.” The tone held some reproach, but she could feel a hint of warmth under it. “What about the last one? Robert, wasn’t it?” “Yeah. About that…” [hr] Sand leaned back against her library chair, staring at the monitor in front of her. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes were focused intently on the puzzle before her. Christmas offers and listings were splayed throughout the screen, bombarding her with dozens of messages about how [i]‘this deluxe kitchen appliance is the best possible gift one could ever receive for Christmas and everyone who misses this chance is doomed to a pitiable existence as a repulsive savage.’[/i] In hindsight, she should have steered clear from the domestic gifts section. Noticing movement out of the corner of her eye, she looked over her shoulder to see a red-haired girl looking curiously at the screen. “Hi Sangue. Do you need anything?” she asked, eager to get her on her way. As much as she liked the quirky girl, she had other things in her mind at the moment. “What are you… doing?” she asked. “I’m thinking of giving my teammates gifts for Christmas,” she said, gesturing at the screen. She paused, suddenly remembering that not too long ago the situation had been reversed, and she gave the girl an ironic smile. “I’m trying to think of something Robert might like.” The girl’s lips formed an ‘o’ as she recognized her dilemma. “Wait... here. I’ll be back.” Sand tilted her head as the girl walked away towards the bookshelves. After a moment, she returned, holding a familiar book in her hands. Sand gave her a half-lidded stare. The title read, “How To Manipulate Relationships Like A Professional.” [i]Don’t tell me she’s going to… Yep, she’s definitely doing it[/i]. Sand only stared blankly as the red-haired girl opened the book exactly where Sand had before, and pointed her at the passage Sand had read for her. “Jokes can help… lighten the mood between friends… and have them feel more… comfortable—” “Sangue.” She felt horrible cutting the innocent girl off, but she did not feel excited by the prospect of sitting through a rehashed version of her lecture. Particularly if the girl kept pausing every three words. “I appreciate the help, but there’s a problem with that.” “What?” she asked, looking at her curiously. If she was offended, she didn’t show it. “I’m not funny,” she deadpanned. Amusing herself was one thing. Entertaining others on demand was wholly another. The girl stared at her for several seconds before nodding seriously. Sand couldn’t help but feel her spirit droop slightly at the sight. Seeing that coming from Sangue was like having a child telling her she was ugly. You just knew neither would lie about that. “Why not… a good-luck charm?” the girl suggested after a moment. “Robert said… he liked them.” Sand perked up upon hearing that. Perhaps Sangue could be of help after all. “Good luck charms? Like a rabbit’s foot, or a four-leaf clover?” “Robert said… that a hug could be… a good luck charm. That it was the thought… that made it precious.” The girl screwed her face, then. “Why is… a rabbit’s foot… a good-luck charm?” Sand shrugged, leaning back on her chair with a thoughtful expression. “I don’t know. It’s just the kind of thing people usually think of when they talk about good-luck charms.” The two remained in silence for a moment before Sangue piped up again. “I can get you a rabbit… if you want.” [hr] “So? Did she go get you a rabbit?” “I had to talk her out of it.” “Shame.” “I know.” “What happened to Robert’s gift?” [hr] Sand arrived at the team’s room, letting herself in with a tired shuffle. She had just finished convincing Sangue that she did not really want to get Robert a rabbit’s foot. Then, she had to convince her not to gift him a rabbit’s foot [i]herself[/i]. Then, she had to convince her that the gift would not be better if the foot came from a different animal. It was a shame, too. She seemed very eager to help, but Sand was not particularly keen on keeping dismembered body parts in their room. However, her encounter with the red-haired girl had reminded her that her gift did not need to be a physical object. Indeed, something else could be just as suitable for the former leader of their team. She found Robert resting on a chair in the common area, absentmindedly looking out the windows. She paused, then. Was it presumptuous of her to ask? Would he take it as her flaunting around something he lacked? Perhaps, but she wanted to give it a try. She still remembered how the boy had broken down the first time she had met him on their dash through a Grimm infested forest. All she had to offer at the time was to suggest he put his misery out of his mind. [i]What a selfish thing to say. As if it was that easy.[/i] “Hey Robert,” she called out, swallowing down her trepidation. “Do you have any plans for Christmas?” The boy blinked, and glanced at her with a start, as if surprised by her presence. “What?” “I asked if you have plans for Christmas,” she repeated. “Ah. No, not really,” he said, offering her a forced smile. Sand nodded. She had expected as much. “I’m going home for a Christmas dinner. Want to come with?” Robert’s eyes widened, surprised, and he made a difficult expression. “Oh, no, I don’t want to impose.” “You won’t,” she retorted. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” “I don’t know…” “Robert,” she said seriously. "I’m not taking no for an answer.” The sudden demand gave him pause, and after giving her a wary glance, he folded. “Okay then, I guess I’m going.” “Good choice.” He gave her a dubious look. “Out of curiosity, what would you have done if I did have plans?” “Well, I wouldn’t need to ask if you did.” At that moment, Trad walked in from the bedroom, looking around curiously. “Ask about what?” he asked once he located them. “About Sand’s dinner party,” Robert answered before she could get a word in edgewise. “Sand’s having a dinner party?” Before she could correct him, she was interrupted by the door to the hall opening up. Grane paused at the doorframe as he saw the group assembled. “What happened?” he asked. “Sand’s inviting people to her Christmas dinner party,” Trad answered for him. Sand saw the disaster in the making for what it was and tried to cut in. “No, wait—” “Did someone say dinner party?” came a voice from outside the hallway. Grane looked back. “Yeah, Sand’s making a dinner party at her place.” Suddenly Gren’s silhouette appeared behind Grane’s. “Great, I can help cook!” “I’d like… more of Gren’s cooking,” Sangue joined in, appearing behind Grane. As if the statement had conjured a chain reaction, more and more students began accumulating at the entrance to their team’s room. “Dinner party at Sand’s place?” “Great chance to get together with everyone!” “Doesn’t the school make an event like this already?” “Did someone say ‘free food’?” Sand only stared at the door, the horror in her eyes growing as she slowly realized the magnitude of her mistake. [hr] By then, hearty laughter was pouring out of the phone’s speakers. “Yeah, sure, laugh it up,” Sand said, dryly. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just, the thought of you throwing a party…” laughter started up again, and Sand would have rolled her eyes were her attention not focused on the road in front of her. She was not far from his house. Maybe she could crash the car into the living room before he stopped laughing. [i]No. No,[/i] she stopped the treacherous thought. [i]I can’t afford the repairs. And it would be extremely petty. That’s the more important reason, of course, that it would be petty.[/i] After a few seconds, Allen finally managed to get ahold of himself. “Hah… ah, that’s great.” Another round of restrained chuckles poured out of the speakers, making Sand’s grip on the wheel tighten. “So? What happened? Did you tell them it was a mistake?” “Well,”—and then it was Sand’s turn to smile impishly—“that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” “...” “Hello? Allen? Did the call fall through?” “...” Sand hummed, contemplating the silence. After a moment, she spoke up again. “They all know where you live.” “You’re paying for the food.” [/hider]