092. Christmas
Disclaimer: Pretender still isn't mine. Give me a few years and I'll see if I have enough money then.
Author's note: Miss Parker and Christmas was always a favorite combination of mine. I'm sorry this feels more like the beginning of a story than a drabble, but I was going for voice and mood.
Most wonderful time of year my foot.
Here I go again, playing the Scrooge. I look around, half expecting him to call or even show up in person. I'm being ridiculous. He can't read my mind.
It only seems that way.
I enter her house—it's still not my house, even though she's been gone for decades.
I have a message.
I know, instinctively, that it's from him. Or maybe it's from my father. I don't want to hear from either one of them right now, so I pour myself some scotch and attempt to ignore the blinking red light.