"мама, what's a greeting card?"

Natasha Shepard paused midstride, craning her neck to look back at her youngest daughter. "What's a what?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

"A greeting card," Ksenia repeated, "It's for my winter project," she explained, projecting her half-finished poster board on her omni-tool. 'Communicating In The Past' was written in bold across the top.

"Oh. Uhm well, I…I think they were some kinda…paper? That people sent each other 'round the holidays," she fumbled, "Like…like how we call up Uncle Garrus an' the rest, yeah?"

Ksenia frowned. "But…why wouldn't they just send a message on their omni-tool like we do? Wouldn't that be faster?"

"Well, they didn't have omni-tool's back then," she said, confidant in that fact, at least, "Cards an' things're from pre-digital times. Along with, uh, phones an' stuff,"

"What's a phone?"

Natasha swallowed, feeling as though she was standing on the edge of a somewhat slippery slope. "Uh, well, ya know how we make vid calls? They're sorta like those except…not video, just sound,"

The girl frowned, "But then how would you see what the other person was doing?"

"Well, ya wouldn't,"

"But how could you know if they were really paying attention?"

"Well, I, uh, I guess ya wouldn't. Ya'd just…ya'd keep talkin' an' they'd keep talkin' an' ya'd have ta trust they were really listenin'," at the sight of her daughters mouth dropping, she hurried to add, "But we're gettin' off topic, yeah? We were talkin' about, uhm, greetin' cards, right?"

Ksenia nodded and Shepard fought the urge to sigh in relief. "Uh huh,"

"Well, uh, I know I'm not givin' the best explanation here so…why don't we pull some pics up on the extranet? Might make it easier ta understand,"

She shrugged, agreeable, and sat back down, waiting patiently for her mother to join her.

Natasha flopped onto the sofa beside her, earning a laugh for her trouble, before the pair of them settled and Ksenia started her search.

After a few minutes, Natasha felt a little more confidant in what she'd said earlier, so much so that she decided to repeat it, "Okay, so, yeah, it's like I said before; people'd send these card things ta their friends an' family 'round the holidays,"

"Like Christmas?"

"Yeah, like Christmas an' uhm, birthdays an' things,"

"Did they have special cards?" she asked, frowning at yet another plain white card with elegant gold writing, "Or did they all look like this?"

She shrugged. "They probly had special cards," she said, "These all look sorta…plain, yeah? Christmas was a big deal, even back then,"

Dutifully adding the word 'Christmas' to her search, the digital page was suddenly awash in red and green. "Wow," she said, her eyes wide. "They used all these cards just for Christmas?" she frowned, "Wouldn't that waste paper?"

"A lil bit, I guess. But they thought it was worth it, ta keep in touch with people who lived far away. See, it was a way ta remind those people that they were thinkin' about 'em, even if they couldn't see 'em,"

"Oh," she said, "But why couldn't they see them? Couldn't they just go visit?"

"Well, travelin' wasn't as cheap or as fast as it is now. So, sometimes, it was just too far an' too expensive ta just up an' go fer a few days,"

That seemed to settle the little girls mind, for the moment, at least, and Natasha sat back, smiling slightly at the look of concentration on her small features. "мама?"

"Hmm?"

"Who's that man?" she asked, pointing to a picture of a jolly-faced, red clad man, "He's on a lot of these,"

"Oh, wow," she said, leaning forward, "It's Dedushka Moroz," she said, her voice awed.

"Who?"

"Ded Moroz," she repeated, shaking her head slightly, "I haven't seen him 'round since before I enlisted. I mean, I guess they still play him up but I haven't spent a holiday on earth since. An' he never caught on with the other races so…"

"But who is he?" Ksenia pressed.

"Uh, he's a, well, like a myth, I guess. Every year on Christmas he'd go 'round an' give all the good kids toys an' all the bad kids, well, nothin',"

"Why?"

Running a hand through her hair, she shrugged, "I dunno it's…just what he did, yeah? It was like his job or somethin', bringin' joy ta kids,"

"How'd he get to them all?"

"He had a sleigh, yeah? An' these, uhm, these things," she said, tapping her finger to a specific image in order to enlarge it. "Moose, I think they're called. Anyway, he'd fly 'em 'round an' deliver toys an' stuff,"

"How'd they fly? They don't have wings," she frowned before brightening, "Are they robots? Like Aunt EDI?"

"I, uh, well, ya see-"

Natasha was interrupted then by a full-blown laugh that had her craning her neck over the back of the sofa in search of the source. And there, framed in the doorway, stood her beautiful wife, eyes bright as she laughed heartily at the corner their youngest had backed her into. Give her a sniper rifle and a battleship and she was unstoppable; give her a curious seven year old and she was about as useful as a drunken krogan.

Glaring for all she was worth, she opened her mouth only to be distracted by a tug on her sleeve.

"мама? Aren't ya gonna tell me 'bout the mooses?"

"Uh, I could sure," she began, a smirk overtaking her features as she fixed her eyes on Miranda once more, "Or ya could ask mommy,"

Ksenia brightened and knelt on the couch so she, too, could see her other mother. "Mommy? What's a moose an' how's it fly?"

The raven haired biotic, still laughing, offered their daughter a bright smile, "Well, first off," she began, joining the pair on the couch, "They're reindeer, not moose. And they fly with magic, darling,"

Ksenia frowned. "Magic isn't real,"

"No, it isn't," Miranda admitted, "But, sometimes, if you believe in something hard enough that it feels real, it…becomes real to you. People believe in Santa because they want too,"

"Wait, who's Santa?"

"The non-Russian name fer Ded Moroz," Natasha supplied, "Forgot that's how ya'd know him, Miri,"

Miranda shrugged. "I didn't really know him at all," she said but, before Natasha could comment, she'd already returned her attention to their daughter. "But I do know you didn't start this conversation to learn more about Santa Clause,"

Ksenia shook her head. "No, mommy. But мамаhelped me with my project already," she said, fixing her brunette mother with a smile that she was powerless to ignore.

"Glad ta help, ditya," she said, pressing a kiss to light brown curls. "If ya think ya've got a handle on it, ya should probly get ta work, da?"

"Da, мама," she said, "I'm gonna go finish in my room,"

"Sure, Kenz,"

"We'll look it over when you're done," Miranda offered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Okay,"

Miranda watched her go with a fond smile only to turn back to Natasha and laugh. "What are the chances we're all going to find Christmas cards in our inbox in the next few days?"

"Pretty good," she said laughing along with her, "She had that look in her eye. Like that time with the paper mashay or whatever it's called,"

"Papier-mâché," she corrected and the other woman nodded.

"Yeah, that's it,"

She shook her head. "Well, this should be easier to clean up, at least,"

A quiet thud from the second floor cut off Natasha's answer, followed by a second, slightly louder one, and a high-pitched, "I'm okay!"

Lolling her head to the side, she fixed her wife with a wide grin, "Wanna bet?"