It was Christmas Eve, Tokyo, and there was no snow. It never did snow much in Tokyo by the bay. The size of the city, the heat it generated and kept in its concrete ground and mountains, the smog that was its own warm duvet. Tokyo didn't get much cold at all anymore.

That suited Priss fine as she weaved through the ever-present bumper-to-bumper traffic of citizens trying to escape the city; to speak nothing of the crowding at every train station in the city. For a few days, she felt like she had the streets to herself: to roam, to race.

She'd give Linna the scare of her life flying over the rainbow bridge, leaving Leon's old hog chugging in her wake. Just the thought of it made her smile cruelly. Linna would be holding her so tight, screaming in her ear to slow down, stop and let her off. And she wouldn't.

"Hee, HEE." Priss chortled.

xmas

Linna liked Christmas. It snowed a lot where she had grown up. She'd go skiing and snow boarding every season when she was old enough, sledding when she was younger. The house was warm, outside flaked drifted down and the trees became puffy white things up on the mountains.

She hated Tokyo Christmas. There was no snow. It wasn't cold. Jeans and a jumper and that was all she needed. There was no point owning a scarf and forget about a yuletide beanie. There were none of the traditions of home and rural living either.

Waiting in line outside of a Kentucky Fried Chicken to buy Christmas special meal sets with Nene wasn't her idea of a real tradition, or a worthwhile use of time.

But Nene said she would prepare Christmas dinner this year for everyone at the Silky Doll, her treat, and so here she was, in a queue to buy the junk food that Nene liked the most. Oh, she'd had KFC a few times before, notably and always when in Nene's company and it tasted okay... and the big fries were seasoned, but still. It was Christmas!

Hopefully Sylia will open her cellar and they'd clean their palates getting drunk on fine wine and champagne.

"This is going to be great!" Nene yelled. "I've always wanted to do this. It's a Tokyo tradition!"

"That's nice, Nene," Linna replied, dying inside. "Wouldn't it have been better if Mackey was here helping you, isn't that what boyfriends are suppose to do?"

"Oh, he's helping Nigel finish putting up decorations and fireworks for New Years."

At least that was another chance to get drunk. Fireworks and booze. Priss had said she had the best viewpoint planned already.

xmas

Sylia was in the kitchen looking terribly busy, lounge robe barely tied on, a glass of champagne – starting early – emptied and refilled, in one hand.

"It has to be ready, just in case," she was saying, dreading having to eat the Colonel's chicken and secret herbs and spices, "nice and plump and juicy turkey. It has to be perfect, Henderson, just perfect."

Sylia wasn't doing any of the cooking. She never had. She didn't know how. The kitchen was state of the art. The pantry ordered food itself. She had a butler who could cook. What else could she ask for?

She raised the flute for another sip and there was nothing. Empty! She could ask for another glass. Quality champagne had no effect. She leaned into the granite bench top anyway. Alcohol of no kind mixed well with the pills she'd taken earlier, the ones the doctor has said to keep her in a steady frame of mind.

She needed her own doctor. Or better to self medicate. She was smarter than those quacks.

"And Nene can't know, Henderson," she said as she tipsy-toed out of the kitchen towards the temperature controlled wine room. "It would hurt her feelings so badly."

"Yes, mistress." Henderson replied dutifully. He had been looking forward to the Colonel: a day when he didn't have to cook far too much food for a fussy eater. One night off, just one night.