a/n: L is running a Secret Santa for BLADE and NLA. The city is trusting him to make the matches between gift giver and gift receiver. He is a consummate businessman and the event will run amazingly well. Or just amazingly.

Warning: there are footnotes.

All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, and I'm trying to avoid violence, swears, and OCs.

"Welcome and happy to our first annual Secretive Santa exchange!" The smiling blue face, a toothy grin that stretched from ear to ear, horn to horn, was as confident and charming as imaginable. L was speaking to no one and everyone in the mass broadcast. The commercial had chimed on every BLADE comm device, as well as most civilian devices, every day that first week of December. [1]

"By pressing the button marked 'Ho ho oh oh' you agree to participate in the exchange, as well as offer us an early Holiday present of 500 credits. In return, we will match you oh ho so secretly with another participant. But that is not all! We provide the first gift, a card from a wide selection, delivered to their device at a safe and Santa approved time. Two days later we shall deliver the second gift, whatever beverage that you may bring to us. Needless and pins to say, we can also provide the liquid of your choosing for a hopefully solid gratuity."

There was a pause to flash several advertisements from the Repenta Diner and the Sunshine Cafe, glittering with ovis wearing reindeer antler headbands and forfex with Santa hats [2], offering beverage suggestions of different strengths and attractive qualities. ("Feliz Navidad mescal jello shots!" "Double Mocha Eggnog-achino, with complementary snowflake cup! snowman emoji heart emoji coffee emoji!")

"The final stage [3] will be a Festive Holiday Party, December 24th at 1900, the Outfitter's Hangar, with final gift exchange. You can either submit your gift to us by noon of the day, or we will provide our best interpretation of your feelings. Let no one go ungifted or unwarned!"

xcxcxcxcxcxcx

Gwin sidled nonchalantly up to L's business area. It couldn't be called a storefront, consisting of a beautiful rug, a few tables laden with tempting objects, and the powerful upgrade machine quietly humming by the wall. Gwin had strolled along Amory Alley, pretending to consider the weapons on display, the armor and skell augments, the commercials for new merchandise from Candid & Credible. He'd walked onto the BLADE promontory to shoot the breeze with Lara, then circled back along the bustling alley, always hoping that the store would be free of customers. He really didn't want anyone else in NLA knowing his business.

After the fifteenth circuit, he was in luck. There was another customer, an anonymous Pathfinder with a drooping hibiscus, but the Ma-non shop assistant was helping him. L was standing quite alone. Gwin walked up to the tall alien before he lost his chance (or his nerve).

"Um, L, about your Secret Santa thing..."

"It is /our/ Secret Santa thing, not /our/ Secret Santa thing, our dear Gwin."

By which Gwin thought L was maybe talking about the city rather than his own enterprise, but that wasn't something that Gwin really cared about. "Uh, right, the Secret Santa. Is there a way, you know, to maybe ... make the choice not so secret?"

"We understand your impatience, but all will be revealed in good minutes."

"No, I mean, can I maybe pick who my giftee is?"

"Gifty? We are enchanted with this word. Holly, jolly, gifty..."

"Irina. I want to give presents to Irina Akulov," Gwin blurted.

L beamed down at the young BLADE. "And we have gifts for you to purchase to that end!"

Gwin tried again. "Can I join the Secret Santa exchange but be sure that Irina will be my match? I want to be her Secret Santa, the one giving her the gifts. Please? You haven't chosen the match-ups yet, have you?"

"That isn't very secret."

"She'll still be surprised," Gwin wheedled. "And I know her really well, so I'd be sure to give her gifts that she'd like, stuff that would make her happy. Doesn't she deserve to get nice things?" He looked as innocent and honest as a puppy surrounded by shredded Christmas presents.

L tilted his head and tapped his chin with a long blue finger for a moment, then smiled generously. "Of course, young friend. We will make the necessary changes to our databaseline. Alas, it will require much more effort and expense."

Gwin looked blank.

L kept his beatific smile firmly affixed. "10,000 credits."

Gwin gulped hard and opened his comm device. Three sickening swipes later, the deed had been done. L shook his hand excitedly. "You will not be disappointed in us, or the eventual surprise." Gwin almost dropped his device because of the enthusiasm transmitted along his arm. It was a good thing he had taken a firmer grip on the scrap of tech because the rumble behind him took him unawares.

"That didn't sound exactly kosher to me. What mess have you gotten yourself into, Evans?"

"Commander! Sir! Uh, nothing, nothing! No trouble. Excuse me, I ... uh, I need to be..." No one heard where Gwin needed to be, since he has skipped out of the awkward situation before he reached the end of his sentence.

Vandham glared at the peaceful shopkeeper. "I heard enough of that conversation to know the lay of the land."

"We congratulate you on your geographic aural abilities!"

"Yeah, well, don't make it a habit." Vandham paused before stomping out. "But if it does become a habit, do me a solid and hook me up with someone cute and single and not in BLADE." He gave an enormous shrug that could have indicated the Arms Manufacturers' headquarters, the lower skell hangar, or the whole of the residential district. [4] [5]

a/n: 1. This did not include the Ma-non. Not even L was willing to risk interacting with the Ma-non's cheerful, anarchic, and highly inquisitive messaging interface. Non Ma-non species found it easiest to give the small aliens hard copies and then back away slowly, rather than find their own ship's systems, inventory lists, family photos, and search histories thoroughly acquired, re-cataloged, and reviewed.

2. Forfex with Santa hats, Santa Claws, get it? get it?!

3. At this point ominous electric guitar music drifted from devices across New Los Angeles, a tune titled "Hark the One-Winged Angel Sings".

4. Vandham very clearly meant the lower skell hangar, but with shoulders that big, shrugging is an inexact science.

5. I don't think I'm done yet... but just in case, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.