"Well, there goes another childhood memory, right down into the gutter."
Paul Ballard looked up as Topher Brink hurried past the alcove where he was talking with Echo. The tech genius looked rather freaked out and, exchanging a look with Echo, Paul rose and called out, "Topher? What's…."
"Ho-Ho-Ho, little boy. Want Mrs. Clause to sit on your lap?"
Lima was returning from her engagement, dressed in what could best be described as a Mrs. Clause re-imagined by Fredrick's of Hollywood outfit. Thigh high, black leather boots. Red skirt with a white fur hem that was made of little more fabric than a belt and a matching bandeau top that showed more than it concealed. The little Santa hat on her head sat at a jaunty angel and she held a thick, leather strap with several brass jingle bells.
Muntz, her handler, seemed to be having a bit of trouble getting her to follow him to the imprint room. The imprinted active kept wandering away from him, making suggestively themed comments to blank dolls and staff alike. At one point, she snapped the strap at Victor like a whip, sending the startled doll scampering away.
"Hey, big boy, wanna jingle mama's bells?" Paul was aghast to realize she was talking to him and suddenly understood Topher's trauma. He felt vaguely dirty and knew he'd never be able to look at illustrations of kindly, old Mrs. Clause the same way again.