Vito couldn't focus on the news. Christmas was just around the corner, people kept sending him cards, and Joe constantly asked him when they would get together to throw a party. And by party, Joe just wanted to get drunk and surround himself with the most beautiful women.

Every sound on the TV sounded like gibberish, all to the point where Vito just had to shut it off and bask in the silence of his living room. He lie on the couch, on his side, staring at the wall in a deadpan state. Christmas was a holiday he dreaded, since when he was a kid, he never really experienced the joy of receiving presents like most kids did. All he got now and then was a book, new shoes, or a stuffed animal. The best present he'd ever received was a baseball bat and a couple balls. Francesca had no interest in sports, and would have rather stuck to reading books all day. Joe was the only kid Vito played ball with, but due to his behavior, Joe was grounded most of the time. The lack of pupils kept Vito in the outside his apartment smacking balls around by himself. He'd seldom ask his dad to play with him, since the man was always drinking or working.

With the burden of being poor on Christmas, Vito also found himself and his family in soup kitchens or gospel missions for food. Not to mention, it was cold. Cold as fuck. The winters in Empire Bay were merciless, and as a kid he'd gotten sick constantly.

Christmas. It was a curse word in his mind. How other people enjoyed the chaotic nature of rushing in and out of stores to buy gifts, decorate a dead tree, get sick, and hear the same repetitive songs on the radio every year, Vito had no fucking idea.

Just when he thought he'd hate this year's Christmas, he had an objective in mind. An objective that made his heart swell when simply thinking about it. Because of it, this may be the first Christmas he'd actually enjoy, that is if he had the balls to pull off what he was about to do.

For a few years, he'd thought of this, and how he'd do it. If the plan would backfire or serve him good. Last year, he chickened out, broke his own heart out of shame and disappointment in himself, and ended up outside Joe's apartment the next morning covered in his own vomit. Luckily Joe was there just in time to drag him inside and stick him in the bathtub for a few hours. The vomit was gone, but he contracted an rash on his ass from the gritty surface of the tub.

This year, he was just going to do it. He was going to accomplish a great task beyond what he was accustomed to. He would need the assistance of a particular friend, though.

Peeling himself from the sofa, he went to put on his coat and head out the door. Negative ten degrees. He felt like a complete and total dumbass for even wanting to go outside, but he needed to get out of the house. Cabin fever was a common thing during the winter.

It took him twenty minutes to get to the Maltese Falcon, which was typically an eight-minute journey, but there was a traffic jam due to two cars colliding on black ice. He had to take another route, which was a hassle and made his mood a hell of a lot worse than it was before.

Vito made his way inside the bar, disgruntled rather than pleased, but it was his own fault for even leaving his home during shit weather conditions.

As he wandered inside, he spotted a familiar face. The face belonged to his underboss, Eddie Scarpa. He was drinking, as usual, talking with some other colleagues of his. Vito figured he'd not speak a word to him and instead wander over to one of the booths. But alas, Eddie managed to spot him from a yard away.

"Hey, Vito!" he called out across the bar. Just as Vito sat down, he saw Eddie making a b-line towards him. As the underboss appeared before him, he had a grin on his face, and to Vito, that meant he was about to say something snarky.

"What're you doin' creepin' around here?" Eddie started. "You avoiding me or somethin'?"

"No, no," Vito answered, "I just needed to get outta the house for a while. I thought I'd come here."

"Uh huh." Eddie slid into the seat across from Vito. "Of all places, ya came here. Why ain't you going shopping with your sister? The holidays are comin' up."

Vito shrugged. "You know how it is. She's married, she's scared of me, yattah yattah yattah..."

"Ah, women. They're all the same." Eddie laughed. "How about a drink, kid? It'll warm you up."

"Sure." Vito responded. Eddie turned to whistle at the waiter. Vito busied himself by fondling a napkin while directing his eyes out the window. He had a wistful expression painted on his face as he watched the snow start to pick up the pace. By the time he'd leave, there would be a blizzard.

"You're gonna be here for a while, it looks like." Eddie started. "The roads are a fuckin' disaster. Were there any accidents on your way here?"

"Oh, you bet." Vito replied with a chuckle. The waiter approached and set the drinks in front of the two men. Immediately, Vito reached his hand forward to grasp his beverage, bringing it to his lips and taking a sip. The warm, bittersweet liquid trickled down his throat, sending a shiver up Vito's spine.

"Butterscotch brandy." Eddie raised his glass and grinned. "Limited edition. They only sell this shit around the holidays."

"I thought that was the gingerbread ale." Vito cocked an eyebrow.

"Ugh, don't even talk about that ale." Eddie grimaced. "Carlo guzzled that down last New Years. I don't think I'd ever see a man barf that fuckin' much."

"Jesus..." Vito listened.

"He barfed on my fuckin' carpet." Eddie frowned. "Took a month for the smell to go away! Of course I can't be too mad, I mean he is my boss."

Vito took another sip from his drink and kept an ear open for Eddie. He'd initially wanted alone time at the bar, but a friendly discussion with the underboss wouldn't hurt. Even though there was someone else he wanted to talk to even more...

"You hear about the, what was it... candy cane vodka?" Eddie added. "I wanna try that, but at the same time it sounds like another holiday hangover."

"What if someone used that to make an eggnog white Russian?" Vito spoke, smacking his lips to rid them of the spiciness.

Eddie laughed. "Hell, I'd pay to see that!"

Vito directed his attention out the window again, using his fingers to trace the texture on the glass of brandy. The snowfall was growing in severity, which caused Vito to grow quite disgruntled.

"I'll give you a lift later," Eddie offered, "I can't have one of my best men getting lost in this bullshit."

"The city's small. There's nothing to get lost in." Vito rolled his eyes. "You don't have to worry about me."

"Just being nice." Eddie knocked back his drink after Vito did so.

Vito thought about a better conversation topic besides booze, women, or the weather. He had one person on his mind, but it'd make for a weird atmosphere if he were to bring them up.

He took a deep breath, formulating what he wanted to say, and then began to speak.

"So... hear from Henry?" Vito asked, feeling his heart swell when he spoke that name.

"Not really." Eddie answered. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing. I just haven't heard from him in a while. You keepin' him busy?"

"Busy? Pssht. Nahh... it's closer to the holidays, so Carlo told me to go easy on the jobs. If I need you, or him, or Joe, I'll tell you."

"True." Vito nodded, looking down at his brandy. That wasn't the answer he was really looking for. He expected a lengthier conversation about him, but it was Eddie. What the fuck did he know? Besides, if he kept talking about Henry, he'd be pushing the envelope and enticing suspicion.

Unfortunately, Eddie had read Vito's expression and smirked. "Hang on a sec... you're up to something."

Vito's head shot up and his eyes widened. "Huh? No I'm not." Dead giveaway.

"Riiiiight, sure you're not." Eddie chuckled. "I know when you guys are lying, and you're not getting past me."

"I'm not lying. What're you talking about?" Vito tried to refrain from breaking his composure.

Eddie sat back and crossed his arms. "Twenty years I've worked in his business. You're stiff as a board, your eyes are twice as open as they were before, and your neck is redder than a baboon's ass. I could even hear your ass clench just now."

Vito parted his lips, trying to make a comeback, but it was true. His entire muscle frame was tight, and he evaluated his face; he could feel himself looking like a deer in headlights.

"Ah? See?" Eddie gave his usual smug look.

"See what?!" Vito's voiced raised an octave before he dropped it down to a quieter tone. "You're kinda pissing me off... okay?" Little did he know, he had leaned in nervously.

Eddie couldn't refrain from laughing. "You and that Joe. Horrible liars! If you're really telling the truth, you wouldn't be pissed. You're hiding somethin'! And I know just how to crack you open and pour the yolk out. Don't fuckin' test me."

"There's n-no 'yolk' to pour out." Vito felt the sweat forming above his brow, and damned his body for giving away his insecurities.

"You're sweating." Eddie noticed.

"No, I'm not. It's just the brandy kicking in."

"Uh huh..."

"And it's warm in here..."

"You have eyes for Henry." Eddie got right to the point.

"Christ..." Vito sat back and sighed. If he confessed, that would be the end of the world right then and there. But if he denied it, Eddie would try to pull it out of him anyway. There was no winning. Eddie had him trapped. He grit his teeth, regretting his choices.

"How about we give him a call?" Eddie sneered. "Maybe you can tell him how you feel. Or, you can tell him directly that you don't like him and want nothing to do with him."

"That's not fuckin' true." Vito grew defensive. "Look, just drop the whole fuckin' thing. Forget I said anything."

"You were the one who brought it up, not me!" Eddie attempted to further get on Vito's nerves. "I'm just gonna assume that's a yes."

"Just... stop." Vito shook his head and looked down at the brandy that he didn't want to drink anymore. "Fine... fine... maybe it's a crush. I don't know... but why're you so hell bent on making me tell you?"

"I'm just hell bent on finding peoples' secrets." Eddie admitted. "It's what I do. Heh heh."

"You're a fucking asshole." Vito muttered, knocking back the once-tasty drink. It now tasted bitter, due to embarrassment. He immediately wanted to leave, to sprint out of the bar and towards home. He directed his eyes to the window again. Pure white.

"I'll take you home when you're ready." Eddie offered again. "Unless you want another brandy."

Vito couldn't fathom the idea of riding in a car with a sociopath such as Eddie. Another minute more and he'd end up squeezing every bit of information out of him. But if he waited at the bar for the storm to die down, the same thing would happen. Once again, he was trapped in Eddie's unwanted presence. He didn't have the heart to tell him to fuck off.

Eventually, he gave in and let Eddie drive him home. Vito had his arms crossed the entire way, his forehead pushed against the cold glass of the passenger door's window. Once they stopped in Vito's driveway, he put his hand on the door, ready to get out, but Eddie stopped him.

"Hey." he began. "I ain't gonna tell nobody about what we talked about. I promise."

"Uh huh." Vito glared and got out of the car, shutting it roughly. He stuck his hands in his pockets and started towards his house, his shoulders slumped in a grumpy position. The few hours out of the house were not of real tranquility, and for that he became more stressed than before.

Once he entered the house, he locked the door and kicked off his snowy shoes before hitting the sofa. He placed his feet upon the coffee table and rested his head back, shutting his eyes and sighing for over five seconds.

He couldn't imagine the horror Eddie would cause, now knowing about his feelings towards Henry. He'd hate if Henry caught wind of it indirectly. For one, that'd take the magic out of being able to tell him how he felt. Also, if Henry were to reject him, he'd want to know head on, and not find out by watching Henry avoid him.

How many other people would Eddie tell? Sure, he made a promise not to, but surely he'd drop not-so-subtle hints just to embarrass Vito in an attempt to make him crack. He was going to reveal it to Henry somehow without Vito's consent, which was what Vito feared the most.

He needed some quick comfort. Joe would know what to do.