Author's note: Happy Holidays! This one goes to all the lovely Sonic fans I had the pleasure of working with over the years as well as the fantastic members of the Kelviniana forum. You keep my spirits high. You make the craft worthwhile.
Disclaimer: Sonic the Hedgehog, related characters, concepts and locales are copyright SEGA.
Not a Creature Was Stirring, You Say?
Spagonia rarely has snow, but when it does, the city hides under a blanket of puffy chill. The residents, sound asleep in the wee hours of the morning, are going to have a blast when they wake up. For it is the night before Christmas and not a creature is stirring, not even a hedgehog.
At least, not until he hears an upsetting roar coming from his curvy alarm clock.
"We're on an important mission, Shadow. Stay focused!"
She doesn't really roar; the sound causes a grating echo in his sleep-deprived head. It's an illusion, a part of the imaginary white world he's landed in. A world with cold yet surprisingly soft benches. If he turns on his side, the annoyance will go away. Her fuse is as short as her attention span.
"Hrmr," he threatens.
A few seconds of silence. Shadow is pleased, and the bench is still soft.
"Shadow!"
There's an uncomfortable wet sound. His head feels heavy. Curious, Shadow half-opens an eyelid and immediately jumps up because the world is pitch black. He realises that he's losing balance and tries to reposition himself, but trips over the bench.
"Maria!" he yells as he lands face-first in the snow. Thrashing about, he makes a spectacular snow angel, the first of its kind this year.
It is a very special angel because it has a large snowball for a head. Shadow punches himself to break the snowball. He doesn't care how it got there because he's focusing on the pain.
The glaring light returns and it's worse than before. The roar is quick to follow. He can barely distinguish a voluptuous bat emerging from the background. She's dressed nicely for this weather, a white coat and fuzzy hat. Her ears must be feeling a lot warmer than his right now.
"Oh, it's you, Rouge. Where are we?" he asks, shaking the snow off his head.
"See for yourself." Her hand moves beyond the source of Shadow's pain. He identifies it as a street light and grumbles.
Squinting, Shadow searches for identifiable landmarks. A plaque in front of an imposing building looks like a good start. He rubs his eyes because reading is a pain.
"Spagonia University….did you get detention on Christmas Eve?"
Rouge fights the urge to facepalm. Her hand twitches once, but her voice is calm. "Think about it." She sees Shadow open his mouth and is quick to intercept. "Take your time. I want you to give me your best shot."
He lowers his head, in thought at first. Then, he starts longing for the soft bench as his eyelids grow heavy.
"Shadow!"
"Maria!" he cries out when a snowball hits him on the chest. He sees Rouge frowning. He doesn't recall why, nor does he connect the snowball hit to her frown in any way.
"I was, uh, tracking Eggman with my Chaos Sense." A reasonable explanation, in Shadow's opinion.
"Really, Shadow? You're going to BS me tonight?"
"It's not like we qualify for presents."
"Yet. Help me this once and we'll both get what we've been dreaming of all year." She offers him a hand to get up.
That's rich! Shadow hasn't had a dream for a long time, constantly out on GUN missions. Christmas shuteye sounds like the perfect gift and it doesn't look like Rouge has any with his name on it.
He glances at the plaque again to make out the rest of Rouge's current obsession. Chaos Exhibition. University of Spagonia is showcasing Prof. Pickle's collection of priceless artefacts. Rouge likes priceless. The more priceless, the better.
Shadow snorts, having pieced together her mischief, and takes her hand. "I don't see how a robbery is going to get us off the naughty list, but have it your way."
She doesn't give him a moment to hesitate by taking flight to the university's rooftop. He fancies a glance at the meticulous bat even though his head is drooping to the ground as it departs from under his feet. Beats having to hold on to her boots, though. She's picked the black ones, for some reason. They look weird sticking out beneath her white coat.
Up on the roof, Shadow is having second thoughts about the ordeal. Christmas Eve. Everyone is asleep and he's helping a friend steal from the people he swore to protect. He concludes that being awake for a spell is good because it can keep Rouge out of harm's way, and out of harming others, too.
Rouge comes well-prepared. Her communicator has a 3D map of the university. Without a doubt, she's been there before, posing as a tourist. Shadow folds his arms, waiting for the brief.
"We must secure the silver Chaos Emerald for GUN before Eggman steals it."
It almost sounds convincing the way she says it. Shadow knows there is a Chaos Emerald in there; he can feel it. Securing it for whatever purpose paints a target on your back.
"Why aren't we using the front door, then?"
She frowns. "You're talking as if it's your first day on the job."
"You'll get wrinkles if you keep doing that."
Rouge throws her hat at him. Before he gets a chance to recover, he's already dealing with the weight of her coat. They're both spec ops and can weather the snow without such protection.
The smart getup is a façade; a dame arguing with a consort who can barely stand up attracts fewer suspicious eyes than the catsuit she is clad in underneath. A black scarf that she ties over her mouth and a pair of hi-tech goggles over the large eyes conceal every inch of her flesh to blend into the night. Her metamorphosis into a faceless silhouette concerns him.
"Excessive, don't you think?"
She saunters over to the glass dome in the middle of the roof. The heat coming from inside the building keeps the glass snow-free. A set of switches lining a few panes controls the natural air flow. She watches, but doesn't touch although she'd love to.
"I'm talking genuine Chaos, Shadow. They have all sorts of security down there. You can't walk in, fly in or warp in without setting off the alarm."
The hedgehog takes care of her clothes and joins her by the dome. It is much lighter on the snow-capped roof than within the university. The darkness doesn't stop him from marvelling at the anti-theft system that makes her fingers tingle with excitement.
"Sounds secure enough without us taking it, actually." He spots a CCTV camera in a corner below. It has the GUN insignia. "You have some explaining to do."
Unfazed by his tone, she hooks a zip line to two chimneys situated across the dome. Unlike the glass, the bricks don't mind any scratches. Besides, it's only for a few minutes. She tests the rope before attaching herself to it. Rouge is surprised to find Shadow still wanting a reply. She multi-tasks.
"Monkey see, monkey steal. If that baboon knows where the emerald is, what's an alarm going to do to protect my precious jewel?"
He looks up several details about the hardware inside the university. If the alarm is triggered, GUN will call him to remedy the situation in person. Shadow has conflicting thoughts, which he cannot hide from her.
"What are you intending to do exactly?" he asks.
"Keep up appearances." She pulls out a jewellery box and chucks it at him.
This time, Shadow is prepared to catch it. A silvery gem lies inside. He clutches the gem and closes his eyes.
"Mhhh. Same weight, wavelength and properties as a Chaos Emerald, but it's a fake. Clever girl."
She swipes it from his hand and puts it back in the box. "Leave the compliments for after the mission, hon." Rouge's lips tickle the edge of his ear. He breathes in and his heart melts from her scent, a floral sensation enveloped in velvety amber. "We're on a tight schedule."
As if on cue, the controlled windows pop open, inviting the cold breeze. Rouge shares this invitation.
"After you." She motions for Shadow to help her descend through the opening. Rouge doesn't need the help; it merely makes him an accomplice. In his daze, he does not realise this.
Rouge checks her gear while Shadow scuttles to action. She sets the timer on one of her wristlets and tests the grapples. As a passing note, she gives Shadow a two-way communicator GUN won't be able to eavesdrop on.
He tugs on the rope to lift her off the ground and, with a flap of her wings, she positions herself directly above an open window.
"We've got five minutes. If I'm not back, you know what to do," she whispers.
"Plan B, the one that stings." He can already imagine the stupidity he'll have to make up to explain Rouge's presence in the exhibition hall at night.
Descending steadily, Rouge switches her laser eyewear on to be aware of any active motion sensors. The catsuit should protect her from alerting heat seekers as long as she keeps her cool. This is more complicated than it sounds while Shadow is distracting her over the radio with his groans.
"Oof. She's put on weight…"
"I heard that," she mumbles into the receiver.
He snickers. "I know."
Rouge ignores the comment and turns around her axis to pinpoint the camera locations. The central hall is circular, supported by a ring of columns. To reach the windowless exhibition hall on the far end of the East wing, she'll have to play the waiting game. GUN do not take kindly to attempts to charm its surveillance systems.
With her wings pulled close to her back, she catches the moment when the cameras change their angles, and grapples to the nearest column to propel herself forward.
The landing is harder than expected. Her grappling hooks won't last long if all the columns are made of the same material. To make things worse, motion sensors line every exit from the central space. From floor to ceiling, the tiny invisible lights will betray anything bigger than a bug if it crosses them.
Still attached to the column, she fires the second grapple from her other wristlet through the sensor barrier. The needle-sharp hooks fly between the lights and hit another pillar in the distance. Rouge realises she can't swing towards it; she'd cut through too many motion trackers.
She resists the urge to release her irritation and attaches the wristlet to the column she's clinging to. This is a setback. Even if she recovers the device, fixating it back on her hand will take too much time, the unstoppable ticking of which she's starting to loathe.
Rouge latches onto the grapple's wire as if it were a tightrope and crawls high above the ground, but within the cameras' range. She can't risk running it. The laser headgear could trick the sensors used by Eggman, but she's never tested it on GUN security. Shadow doesn't let up, either.
"Rouge…"
"Rouge, stop. He's here."
The mute button fixed that. Whoever it is, he'll have to wait. Bat Girl is indisposed, hanging from a tightwire in a compromising position. The sensor array is a hair away from her head.
She inhales and trudges forward.
Something goes wrong.
Lights switch on. The windows seal shut. She can't see anything.
Rouge swallows the urge to pant and pulls the goggles up. GUN agents are bound to storm the place and lock her up. It was a set up all along!
The Staff Only door opens. This is it, she can hear the metallic clanking of cocked guns. She's having a meltdown inside, unable to decide whether to go full-on rogue or surrender. She stays perfectly still, like a dark blot in a brilliantly lit hall.
She isn't ready for what awaits her. The cocked guns – a set of keys. The marching of the boots – a pair of brown loafers. The storm troopers…an old man carrying a covered butter dish. She identifies him as the culprit of her Christmassy escapade, Professor Pickle. Her nails itch. They want to scratch him up for the scare.
Pickle walks towards the exhibition hall. He disables security on his way. That's her ticket! Rouge follows him above, but doesn't go ahead. The professor's idiosyncrasies make him dangerous. Why would a man come out at night carrying a butter dish? Rouge keeps her guard up while he leads her on.
They enter the Chaos Exhibition. Rouge closes her eyes to preserve composure. The Chaos Emerald is within her reach. Incapacitate the man, break the glass and the perfect Christmas gift is hers! The wave of excitement bothers her. She shakes it off and swallows her saliva. The entranced grin mellows down to a wry smile. There's nothing that can stop her now. Nothing.
She doesn't forget to recover the wristlet. While she does that, latched onto a marble pillar, she discovers how wrong she was.
Pickle's eyebrow biometry is scanned by a sensor and the security system shows its teeth. Guns pop from the walls as red lasers line the exhibition hall in several layers. Every mural, treasure chest and artefact stand is sealed off from the rest with a sensor mesh, glass covers protecting the treasure from the top. She'll need to use the pillars that line the central path to cover the distance.
Rouge observes the professor. He lifts the top of his butter dish. It contains butter. This annoys her, for some reason.
"How rude of me to forget. Cucumber sandwiches go with a spoonful of mayonnaise, but you can't have butter toast without the butter. Why, don't mind if I do, sir!" He uses the red security laser to cut the stick of butter. "Locked inside and lacking a butter knife, science prevails! Hep! And it makes a fine Christmas feast."
Pulling at her ears to let off steam, she is flabbergasted by the gross misappropriation of elite security equipment. That laser can cut through steel at max power and he uses it as a butter knife! But he also has the keys to the facility. Some of them, at least. There's no way anyone would trust him not to lose it.
She grins because she can help him lose it all over. Rouge licks her lips and prepares to swoop down to take her candy from the senile baby.
Pickle turns around. "Hm, what was that? It better be hiccups, not a vengeful Chaos Spirit! Hep! I brought the murals here for science. Science, as you can see, prevails." He lifts the butter plate with both hands like a trophy. "Hep! Excuse me, sir."
Rouge cans the idea. Dealing with a scientist is hard enough when they're sober. A drunk one will take too much time to go around. She waits for him to leave. In a moment, she sees darkness engulf the windowless hall. Sounds of chuckling and a forcibly shut door reach her ears. He's gone.
Good.
Having recovered from the shock, she puts the goggles back on and analyses her surroundings. Pieces of altars dedicated to Chaos. Boring. Pictures of the Master Emerald shrine, no emerald in them. Doubly boring. Pickle must have made it to Angel Island when Knuckles was off looking for ME shards. Rouge makes a mental note to do an in-depth background check on the professor.
Because GUN didn't do their intelligence gathering right if they handed full access to Pickle. The purpose of having the system in place is to guarantee the emerald's safety while downplaying its importance.
She now knows the anti-theft gear has bite to back up its bark, but it doesn't change anything. Rouge fires her remaining grapple at a marble pillar closest to the emerald. It is sufficiently high above the now-invisible heat lasers. All that she'll have to do is-
Her grip on the line weakens. The grapple begins detaching; the marble is too hard for it to stick. She can't flap her wings because the air current would set off the alarm.
Rouge somersaults, rolled into a tight ball. She doesn't like keeping her face this close to her shoes, but those are replaceable. The perfect Christmas gift isn't.
She clumsily slaps face-first into the marble. Her goggles crack. It took so much effort to covertly carry them home after a mission. She clicks through the options. Other than enhancements to her own night vision, she's bricked the gear.
At least the grapple is okay, but she can't use that to swing to another column, which should make for a fun exit strategy. Her eyes focus on the ceiling. It'd be stupid to put some form of security into plaster, right?
Right. The grapple latches onto it, allowing Rouge to descend like a spider, ready to cradle her delicious morsel forever. While descending, the aggressive smell of sweat mixed with machine oil and cucumber irritates her nose. She suppresses a sigh; that's what you get for hosting ancient artefacts in a windowless hall governed by a drunk.
Not for long. Her precious will be unleashed from its prison.
She is at arm's length to the glass container which keeps the jewel hidden in this lonely, thankless space. Her heart is beating too quickly for her fingers to stay limber. She hesitates.
Don't worry; your beauty will have its beholder.
The heat lasers are invisible and she cannot cross the sensor that would activate them. With her headgear damaged, she needs to trailblaze the old-fashioned way. Rouge takes out her perfume vial and chokes the stench below with a single spritz.
The mist highlights the beams she is to avoid. She does so with predictable excellence. Rouge has made calculations of the glass cover's weight and alert points. It lies on four tiny pressure switches situated in the corners. If one of them registers a pressure drop, she'll be apprehended by GUN agents or shot to pieces.
Rouge twirls her fingers to fit through the space between the invisible beams and quietly places her damaged wristlet on top of the glass. She stays still for a few seconds. It's just as she suspected: the pressure sensor is a pop-up that does not react to a weight increase. All she has to do now is cut a hole and whisk the jewel out to safety.
She ignores the timer on her wrist. Pickle pulled a number on her plot. When she's about ready to make the opening, her perfume cloud has reached the floor and she can no longer see the hazards.
One more spritz should do it. Oddly enough, this does not get rid of the sweaty odour. It…intensifies.
The motion sensor field. It's missing. She can swish her arm above the container and nothing happens. Turning around, she sees that someone put a reflector on the sensor's receptacle, fooling the beams into tracking themselves.
Her first thought is to take even though her instinct is to flee. She cuts the glass and discovers with her peripheral vision that there is another silhouette in the hall. It is much bigger than she is.
A cryptic text appears in her goggles. "Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse."
She's been hacked! But by whom? Rouge didn't stop for a moment despite feeling goose bumps.
"The stockings were hung by the chimney with care," the text continues.
A bright red light singes her hand. The red laser fired! She doesn't get a chance to blink when a mesh of red heat spreads above the container. She has to pull out.
Who dares?! I am this close! she yells in her head.
The reply comes just as swiftly. Rouge finds herself knocked into a pillar. It hurts like chuff. One of her wings assumes a painfully unnatural position. Shadow is going to badger her about this.
"In hopes that Dr Eggman soon would be there."
Eggman!
He somehow got control of security and manipulated the beams to target Rouge. Not only that, Rouge realises that the lasers are converging on her from several directions. Eggman increased their power, so they appear thicker. There are two lining the length of her arms, another two by the legs whilst diagonal beams keep her torso pinned to the pillar. She is boxed in.
"Ho-ho-ho! I must have been a good boy this year. Why else would Santa send me this lovely present?"
She pulls the glasses off. She feels embarrassed.
The villain swings by, wearing equipment that looks exactly like hers, only egg-shaped, with a utility belt. She regrets seeing this and realises the doctor must have smashed into her with his girth, which knocked her against the pillar she is stuck on now.
He isn't there to gloat, however. Eggman manipulates the lasers to give his hand enough room to check her suit for the one item he considers dangerous, the fake Chaos Emerald.
"Hands off! Bastard…" she hisses, but keeps her voice down.
Eggman is awfully silent, too. Even as she bites him when his hand gets too close to her head, he doesn't make a sound. Instead, he positions the laser beams closer to her body, making it impossible for her to fidget without getting burned.
He waggles a finger in front of her face and messes up her hairdo to torment her. He already knows where the emerald is hidden, behind her chest plate.
Rouge can't let him get away with it. She lets a laser beam singe through her suit as she shifts to pull Eggman's arm into their heat as well.
It works! The pain gets him to shut several lasers down. She uses the window of opportunity to lunge at him. Since he is attached to the ceiling via grapple from his utility belt, he swings like a wrecking ball.
She grins, about to punch the air out of the buffoon. Touching her without permission, huh?
Rouge aims for his belly, but is surprised when he grabs her with his large hand and shakes the jewel box out. Because he's not looking where the flight takes him in the meantime, he plonks against a pillar.
She can't let that box hit the floor. Any of the assorted tiles may have a pressure sensor Eggman has no control over.
Flying is a bad idea in her condition and she doesn't trust her remaining grapple to work. She goes for the tested route and ascends using the hook as soon as she has the box in her hand.
While Eggman is recovering from a rocky back massage, she continues the mission. Her precision is unaffected by changes in her environment. Knowing that Eggman won't allow them to get caught makes it easier, in fact.
The emerald sits atop a separate pressure plate, a standard complication. Rouge scrapes a piece of chewing gum from under the exhibit stand's surface and places it on the edge of the pressure plate. It holds.
Now, to make the switch. She can't expose both emeralds in the secure area for long because their combined energy will quickly saturate the air.
She takes the fake silver emerald out to put it back in the container when Eggman announces his return by cutting her grapple's line. He punches the air upon seeing her dismay.
The emeralds fall from her hands and roll on the ground. Rouge can't take flight, so she plonks atop the exhibit's glass container. It holds her weight.
Eggman is already out to pick up both jewels. The old gum won't hold the pressure plate much longer.
Time is of the essence. Eggman is bound to remember that the lasers are still in his control if he can steal her emerald. She needs help.
Rouge unmutes Shadow. He's the perfect distraction for Eggman. It'll look good on his permanent record while she makes off with the loot. Win-win.
Pick up! Come on, Shads!
All she can hear is the wind blowing and the sound of a hedgehog snoring. Now she's ready to claw two people's faces off.
But she can only reach Eggman now. He'll do.
The villain is having fun with his utility belt, which keeps him a hair above the floor at all times. The long line he's attached to makes subtle movements difficult, though, and he can't reach the second jewel after nabbing the first. He needs to reposition.
Instead, he sees Rouge lash at his support with one hand and cut the utility belt in half with the other. She takes the second jewel and somersaults close to the ground to reach a pillar.
Eggman belly flops on the ground. He looks agitated at first. Then, surprised. The tile he landed on doesn't have a pressure sensor.
There's no need for one to get back at Rouge. Lasers resume tracking her every move. He stands up, cheering the weapons on, unaware that she's heading towards him. Taking ninja leaps from one pillar to the next, she stops for a split second in front of him before flexing aside to let the laser tailing her hit the villain. She makes it over his bald head, leaving a scratch as a parting gift.
The second emerald is dropped the floor. Eggman is too busy putting out the flame on his catsuit, lit up by the laser.
She has both jewels! Great!
Rouge takes them back to the emerald stand and stops controlling her breathing.
Which is which? I can't tell in the dark, she worries.
She assumes the goggles might still help. They have enhanced night vision, after all. She puts them back on. Big mistake. She can't see anything now; they're totalled.
And her back is in pain again. Lots of pain. Eggman has grabbed her injured wing.
"Unhand the emeralds," he mouths at her.
The raspberry he gets return infuriates him. Eggman uses his weight to throw her into the nearest pillar.
She gasps, but doesn't whimper for him, and the emeralds remain in her possession. With the corner of her eye, she sees the gum failing to hold the pressure plate as Eggman approaches her.
Wall-mounted guns spring into action. They fire sleeping darts, aiming for the one detail that stands out: Eggman's scratched scalp. He falls unconscious like a pup.
"Finally," Rouge says and immediately puts a hand over her mouth. Crap baskets...
Sleeping darts make short work of her resistance. The last thing she remembers is the brilliant light reflecting from the emeralds.
She points a finger at one of them and slurs before passing out, "T-this one. Mine."
An unpleasant odour awakens her. Jasmine and amber churned together with sweat, alcohol and a familiar variety of musk. She's sitting tied up together with Eggman in the middle of the central hall, below the glass dome. She spots the Chaos Emerald is back under its cover.
It is much more difficult to focus up close. Brown loafers waddle around.
"Dr Nik Botvoroi! I've prepared the laser-cut butter toast according to, hep, your exquisite recipe. But, I fear, the toast couldn't wait for your return from the washroom."
"Nik Botvoroi? Washroom?" Rouge grumbles at Eggman.
"Some of us can be subtle," he whispers back.
The loafers move behind her. Pickle is excited. "You have my thanks for returning the keys I seemed to have misplaced, Sonic. I'm sorry we're fresh out of cucumber sandwiches to celebrate. The date must have slipped my mind while I was...hep! Preoccupied with my colleague."
Sonic? He's the one to take the credit? Rouge cannot believe her ears. Her eyes also seem to be playing tricks on her. Either Sonic got soaps with inhibitor rings for Christmas or the owner of the shoes is actually…
"Shadow!" she exclaims, not as loudly as she would have wanted, yet not silently enough to avoid being glared at. He is so dead when he unties her.
The dark hedgehog shakes hands with Pickle. "Thank you for your cooperation, Professor. I'll be sure to forward, err, Tails, your greetings."
He, then, takes the rope his entourage is tied with in one hand, a gift bag in the other, and drags the prisoners' butts down the stairs towards the front door. It's Christmas Day and they can exit in a civilised fashion, whether they deserve it or not.
Shadow doesn't speak until they're outside. He cuts the rope and eyes Eggman first. Scratches on his head, a burnt moustache…bits of the catsuit are torn, so his pale belly is visible. Rouge did a number on him, all right.
The hedgehog pulls out a Santa Claus outfit from the bag and hands it to Eggman.
"Merry Christmas," Shadow says.
Eggman grins at Rouge and realises what a blunder that is. Shadow is quick to interfere.
"Scramble," he orders, pointing away. He doesn't have to say it twice; Eggman runs off, and stumbles near the frozen fountain in front of the university. He can't remember where he parked the Egg-O-Matic.
Mixed feelings come over Rouge as the cool wind nips her cheeks. She's just as banged up as Eggman, which she couldn't see in the dark. Shadow rummages in his bag, giving her a glimmer of greedy hope, only to dash it when he shows her the white coat and hat.
She takes them regardless, blushing behind the ruined makeup: he's kept the clothes warm.
"New hairstyle?" he asks. She doesn't need a mirror to tell it's a jab. "Let's go." He offers her a hand to get up.
She needs it. But, as she hides her shame under the hat and her bruises beneath the coat, she is disappointed because she expected more. On the one hand, Shadow didn't rat her out to GUN. On the other, he fell asleep on the job and put the emerald back like the goody-goody two-shoes he was impersonating.
They stop in front of the frozen fountain. The public square is full of kids playing with the snow. Shadow sees the soft bench he has dozed off on the previous night, his butt print and snow angel still there, many other angels joining it.
In the commotion, he sees how Rouge keeps her head lowered close to his shoulder. Some hedgehogs can be subtle about it, can't they?
His hand goes deep in the gift bag, from which he pulls out a jewel box. "Merry Christmas, Rouge."
She opens it. A silver Chaos Emerald is inside. "It's-it's that one! The thing! It's real!" she looks at it in broad daylight and attacks Shadow with a hug, squeeing.
"Let's go home. I'm yet to unpack my nap," he says.
Rouge lets go of most of him, keeping a tight hold of his hand.
He is happy with this because he still has something in the bag. It's their silvery ticket home. "Chaos Control!"
The End
Author's note: Heartfelt thanks go out to you, dear reader and reviewer, for celebrating the season with me.