Somewhere in Chicago, rapid flurries of snow tremble from the sky and line sidewalks with glistening sheets of white. The snow seems to glow as it absorbs the festive lights from nearby houses, all lit up and gleaming gloriously.

In this neighborhood, there are no tacky blue and orange lights that hang from wooden porches, and there are no gimmicky ornaments or poorly lit inflatable Santas on front lawns. The houses in this area resemble sparkling manors from the front pages of magazine covers – carefully decorated and stylishly elaborate, near picture-perfect mansions gleaming side by side to create an impeccable cluster of Christmas cheer — a small slice of heaven on the North side of Chicago, only a short mile from the heart of downtown.

Although the cheery holiday is creeping right around the corner, the hustle and bustle of commotion is nowhere to be heard throughout the silent streets. With the flush of wealth comes plane tickets to foreign countries, thick winter coats and dangling earrings, family trips to visit distant relatives and tourist attractions.

The houses are vacant now, quiet and cold. A van is parked along the side of a street, and the voices of two men can be heard over the crunching snow. One elbows the other with a grimace, quickening his pace towards the vehicle with a swagger in his step.

"Whatever Marv, let's just hurry up and get the hell outta Dodge."

The taller of the two drags himself in a hurry, grunting with a comically large sack slung around his shoulder. The shorter man swings open the door to the van and tosses a duffel bag in the back.

"I'm just saying, it seems like a waste is all," the lanky man follows in suit, carelessly shoving the bag along with the other before slamming a door shut and hopping into the passenger seat.

"I mean, it's like all the work is for nothing," he scoffs and runs a hand through a curly nest of hair. "C'mon Harry, it doesn't make any sense!"

Harry rolls his eyes as he heaves himself into the driver's side and starts the engine, sighing with the rumbling motor.

"Marv."

"What?"

"What the hell r'ya talking about?"

Marv shakes his head in frustration and settles further back into his seat. "I'm talking about the lack of Christmas spirit around here, man. All the joy's been sucked out of these houses."

Harry huffs dryly with a smirk, "Yeah, probably 'cause we just robbed 'em blind."

They're driving away now, and the houses become a multicolored blur as they pick up speed and maneuver through the empty streets. Marv peers out the window and watches the colors dance and swirl like ultraviolet carnival lights.

"I just don't get it," he rubs his chin and shifts in the seat. "You'd think with how fancy these houses are they'd wanna stay for the holidays, open some presents or something. But it's like they don't even care."

"Yeah, and why's that matter?"

"These people are all loaded, man," Marv insists, waving his hand in a gesture. "They spend big bucks on all this Christmas stuff every year, decorations and lights and trees… and then they don't even stay to enjoy it!"

"It's messed up," he adds matter of factly. His partner only grunts in response and quickly clicks on his seatbelt while checking the rearview mirrors.

"I ain't complainin','' Harry retorts. "They leave the place to us, we do some spring cleaning, we get the hell outta there. 'Sides, you can't blame 'em for wanting a vacation – You tellin' me you'd rather spend Christmas in Chicago instead ah– I don't know, Paris or somethin'?"

Marv shoots his partner a quizzical look. "Paris?"

"Fine – Vegas."

The display of lights disappears behind them and Marv turns away from the side window to watch the glowing speedometer on the dashboard. The heat is quickly warming up the van and making the confined space feel like a toasty oven.

"But think about it–" Marv starts again, wriggling out of his jacket under the seat belt and turning to his partner with a thoughtful expression. "Does it really matter where you are if you don't have any holiday spirit?"

Harry shoots Marv a skeptical look and groans in response, shaking his head at the pointedly stupid question. "Ah, c'mon Marv. Not this again."

"All the fancy French snails in the world aren't gonna make up for that Christmas cheer, Harry," Marv says cheekily, ignoring his partner's dismissive scoff.

"Yeah, and lemme guess –" Harry fumbles with a dial control and turns the heat down a notch. "You're suddenly the expert on Christmas, Marv? Huh? You gonna sing some ''Joy to the World'' now, start preachin' on the streets?"

"You're just a grinch, man."

"'M not a grinch, Marv," Harry snaps tiredly. "Just 'cause I don't wanna go out and make snow angels don't mean I ain't celebratin'."

Marv chuckles, a low throaty sound. "Sounds grinchy."

Harry's eyes are trained on traffic lights in the distance and his pinched expression gives way to annoyance, but Marv only grins at the caustic reaction. He's aware his partner has never been too keen on Christmas cheer despite the season being their big break, but frankly, he finds the testy man's attitude amusing.

"C'mon," he prods further, a twinkle in his eye. "What's your favorite thing about Christmas?"

"My yearly paycheck," Harry responds dryly. "Same as you."

"Nope," Marv grins, popping the 'P'. "Well– the money's a bonus, yeah, but the lights, the music… the presents – that's where the real jackpot is."

"Presents?" Harry's face twists in disapproval. "There's no difference Marv, the money is the present."

His curly headed partner gauges the response for a moment, then shakes his head in disagreement.

"No, man. It's not–" He exhales and pauses for a moment. "Money's just money, but presents are like… made special, y'know? Wrapped with care, all decorated and shit."

"So?"

"So it's different!"

"I could give a rat's ass what it's wrapped in," Harry says sourly. "Long as I get my dues, it's a happy holiday."

"All I'm saying is," Marv drawls, dismissing his partner's snappy tone. "It's nice to get something special every once and a while. Like last year – my brother Alex got me one of those vintage looking remote control cars, the ones from those RC Action magazines – Anyways, it broke after a few days, but it was still pretty cool."

Harry doesn't say anything for a moment and taps his gloved fingers against the steering wheel. "Yeah, alright. I see where you're comin' from, but you're throwin' me off with the whole thing."

"Whaddya mean?"

"Back at the house," Harry replies, eyes cautiously darting back and forth in traffic. "You were goin' on about it, the shit about Christmas, how everybody's missin' the cheer or whatever. I don't get it — 'S not like this year's different from any other year."

His eyebrows are slightly furrowed and he can see Marv in his peripheral, staring out the window and fixated on the glares of headlights.

"What's with you and all this touchy feely shit anyways?" Harry glances at Marv and frowns, noticing the sudden lack of attention. "Marv."

Marv makes a sound and turns back to his partner, distracted. "Huh?"

"You hit your head back there or somethin'?" Harry asks, shooting Marv a suspicious glance. He's still wearing the pinched expression and looks almost concerned, fingers still incessantly tapping on the wheel. "I told ya that basement frame was gonna be low, shoulda stuck to the plan like I said."

"Nah, I didn't hit my head, man," Marv waves his hand absentmindedly, rubbing his chin while watching Harry drive. "I'm just thinkin'... Chicago's kinda short on holiday spirit this year. Everyone seems down in the dumps."

Harry rolls his eyes for what has to be the fiftieth time that night. "Yeah, maybe they didn't get enough presents ."

"Exactly!" Marv declares, eyes widening as he splays his palms out dramatically. Then he pauses and backtracks for a moment before narrowing his eyes in confusion. "Wait… Are you messing with me?"

Harry makes an exasperated sound and reaches into the console with one hand, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and drawing a stick from the pack with chapped lips. He lights the end and cracks a window down as Marv watches him intently, considering his tight expression and stiff movements.

"I think I know what's going on, Harry," Marv hints slowly, a deliberately smug smile creeping across his face. "You think it's all stupid, like a waste of time, right? Cause the presents don't matter – or at least, that's what you want me to think."

"I still got no idea what the hell you're talkin' about, Marv."

"Okay- okay," Marv composes himself, lifting his hands to gesture. "You think I have this dumb thing with presents, 'cause I like 'em so much. You were gettin' an edge earlier when I told that story about my brother, then you switched up on me. So really, you're the one who has a deal with the presents."

They're stuck in traffic and a car honks somewhere in the distance. Harry just scoffs and takes a drag off his cigarette, shaking his head with a puzzled expression.

"I don't got a 'deal' with presents," He bites back, turning his head to scowl at his half-witted partner. "We got a whole sack of 'em from that one house, remember? You're confusin' the hell outta me, Marv. I'm startin' to think you really did hit your head."

"You've never gotten a real present before, have you?"

There's a silence as Harry pauses, cigarette in his hand hovering next to the wheel.

"What?"

The sharp expression cuts through the air and Marv can't help but find himself amused by Harry's dumbfounded reaction, the way his face twists up into an offended grimace.

"Of course I've gotten presents before, asshole," Harry quickly shoots back, angrily shaking his head while glancing between Marv and the ongoing traffic. "What the hell kinda question is that?"

"When's the last time you got a real gift from someone?" Marv presses further, raising an eyebrow in question.

Harry's still shaking his head like it's the dumbest thing he's ever been asked, scowl switching back and forth between Marv and the vehicles on the road. A car moves in front of them and the van abruptly pulls forward, jostling Marv in his seat.

"My dad got me a toolbox once," Harry says hollowly.

"That doesn't count, Harry," Marv scoffs. "How long ago was that?"

Harry has a look on his face like he might not respond, but he just sighs. "...I dunno, twenty, thirty years ago?"

Marv's jaw drops and he gapes at his disgruntled partner, the realization hitting him like a brick to the face. "Oh my God."

"What."

"Oh, man," Marv chuckles lowly, a smirk creeping across his lips. "I knew it."

Harry looks almost nervous, thumbs twitching on the wheel like he's itching to get out of the van. Meanwhile, his partner is still grinning like an idiot.

"That's it," Marv declares, sitting up promptly in his seat. "I'm gettin' you a present, Harry!"

Harry waves him off with a dismissive gesture. "Ah, c'mon Marv, you don't gotta do that."

"Well it doesn't matter, 'cause I'm doing it! And –" Marv holds up a finger in a declaring gesture, beaming in the passenger seat. "It's gonna be the best present ever."

"Alright, alright," Harry sighs in agreement, a soft airy sound. "Whatever ya say, ya crazy bastard."

Marv hums in response, turning his head to peer out the window. He smiles a little as the cars rush by, watching tiny snowflakes softly melt on the glass like buttery crystals. The man is somewhat pleased with himself, mulling over the topic and wondering what the upcoming holiday will have in store for the two of them. He's lost in thought, chewing on his nails as the engine rumbles on, when the dilemma dawns on him —

What the hell is he supposed to get Harry?

The apartment isn't anything to gawk at, but it's warm. Despite the paper thin walls and outdated facilities, there's a sense of familiarity about the place — a coziness born from itchy quilts and confined spaces, leaky fixtures and stale coffee. Although a known comfort for some, a third-rate complex on the South side of Chicago is nothing short of unsavory.

The sun seems to shine less bright here, and long shadows creep over stretches of concrete by nightfall. There are no shiny cars that glisten from fresh coats of paint, and there are no pretty lights that hang from windows with seasonal pizazz. Along with Christmas comes an air of chaos and strange excitement — seedy characters with gold chains, heated exchanges and shabby scarves, peppermint vodka and dirty shoes. In a neighborhood where people wear grease stained clothes and argue in streets lined with garbage, the rest of the world tends to stay away.

Likewise, a lowkey place allows goons to thrive and go unnoticed, skimming under the radar without so much as a footprint in the snow. And on this particular Christmas Eve, a certain pair of goons are celebrating in their cookie cutter apartment, relaxing off the stress of work and enjoying their respective earnings.

Despite the shuddering chill outside, Harry and Marv are copacetic in their temporary holiday hideout. Gift wrapping is strewn across the floorboards and they're surrounded by duffle bags and half-empty sacks, contents out on display in the soft light of the room. They're still wearing coats despite the heat being on full blast, and a radio is playing a jazzy rendition of Bing Crosby's " White Christmas " from somewhere in the kitchen.

"Oh yeah ," Marv whispers loudly, a goofy smile plastered on his face. "Happy Hanukkah to me."

He's splayed out on the floor in a playful manner, resembling a large child. He fumbles with a present, attempts to untie a sparkly ribbon from the package and fails miserably, then resorts to shaking the gift like a maniac while holding it up to his ear. Harry only gives an exasperated sigh, leaning forward in his chair and prying his eyes from a jewely box to shoot his partner a disapproving look.

"Why d'ya gotta do that, Marv?" Harry asks lightly. He takes a swig of the peppermint schnapps he's holding and sets the bottle back down on the floor. "You know you could just open it."

"Yeah, but it's more fun this way!"

Harry only shakes his head in response. He's more fixated on the antique-looking case on his lap — The outside is oak wood, engraved with celtic symbols and runes, while the inside gives way to a bundle of silver jewelry resting on a soft, velvety cushion. He carefully opens the lid and shifts through the contents with a surprising amount of tact, delicately untangling necklaces and inspecting them with a fixed gaze. He pulls out what appears to be a pair of rings, then places one back in the box and holds the other up to the light.

"Jesus," he mutters to himself, squinting at the tiny engraving across the ring. "Two carats. This's gotta be at least ten grand, easy."

Marv glances up from his spot on the floor, still holding the present he finally managed to open — a box of Babushka dolls, little figurines with elegantly painted on Christmas outfits — and curiously eyes the ring for a moment.

"Is that what it says?"

"Nah," Harry responds, holding up the ring to the light. "'S the way it's cut, inclusions and all that measurement stuff. See, when it reflects the light like this—"

He holds the ring at a different angle and surely enough, it glimmers under the light and sparkles like fresh snow in the dimly lit room.

"Woah," Marv gapes in awe, suddenly captivated by the flickering glint.

"That's how ya know it's the real deal," Harry muses, shooting Marv a mischievous grin. "Plus, the diamond's fuckin' huge."

Marv begins to snicker and Harry joins in with a low chuckle, and before either realize it, they're shaking with laughter, reveling in the fruits of their labor with smiles from ear to ear. Marv is practically doubled over when Harry's laughter dies down to a muffled snicker, a trace of gratification. The shorter man shakes his head with his mouth twitched upwards, skin crinkling and bunching up around his eyes.

"Look at us, couple'a upstanding citizens," Harry beams, gold tooth peeking from under his lip with a glimmer. "We struck gold this year, Marv."

Marv smiles back with a twinkle in his eye, "Big time."

"Ah, what the hell," Harry chuckles nonchalantly, placing the ring back in the case and jerking his head towards the sack near the middle of the room. "Hand me one of those, will ya?"

It takes Marv a second to understand what the other man means, but he catches on and leans over, pulling a neatly wrapped present out of the ridiculously large sack and tossing it to Harry, who catches it with ease and begins tearing the wrapping off.

Elvis is playing on the radio now, and Marv is humming along while carelessly ripping open gifts on the floor. He spends a few minutes trying to get the wrappings off, opens the packages and makes a quip about each one, routinely takes a swig of Harry's schnapps, then places the package aside and starts the routine all over again.

A great deal of the wrapped presents end up being toys, although Marv definitely doesn't mind. He doesn't hide his excitement in regards to childish things, much to Harry's annoyance, and he's brashly overconfident when it comes to opinions on toy brands. For example; "Hasbro should be sued for making Monopoly 'cause it isn't fair to play a game where you never win".

Meanwhile, Harry opens a box with a couple of MAD magazines which he actually seems to tolerate and sets them aside to check out later. Then he opens a package with a water gun — then a jar of silly putty, an Etch n Sketch, a retro neon windbreaker, some baseball cards, and an easy bake oven. He tosses aside box after box, making stingy comments under his breath and occasionally throwing things at Marv.

He's peeling a layer of shiny wrapping halfway off a strange looking box when he suddenly stops to stare at the item with a puzzled expression.

"The hell's this supposed to be?"

Marv looks up from a slinky in his hands, and Harry is holding what appears to be a toy robot, a metal-plated dog encased in sheer plastic. Harry is gawking at it like it's the stupidest thing he's ever seen, eyebrows drawn together in contempt.

"Lemme see," Marv urges, reaching out his hands for the box with an eager expression.

Harry just tosses the box to him and takes a swig from the bottle of schnapps, then leans back in the chair with an sigh and lightly shakes his head.

"Kids these days," he mumbles, adjusting the thick scarf around his neck. "Their parents get 'em all the fancy junk they want — even though they know the kid'll only play with it two times then get bored and leave it in a closet or somethin'."

"Like I said, you're a grinch," Marv shoots back playfully.

"Sue me."

"You know," Marv says with an odd look, smiling down at the box in his hands. "I would've been over the moon if I got one of these when I was a kid."

"Yeah," Surprisingly, Harry nods in agreement. "I woulda preferred a real dog, though."

"I never got jack shit when I was a kid," he adds bitterly.

Marv's grin falters for a moment as he glances at his partner, considering the way the man crosses his arms over his chest in a defensive manner. There's a resentment about it, the way he pointedly stares at the box with a stony expression.

Then without warning, Marv jumps up from his spot on the floor like a maniac, eyes wide and mouth gaping as he's hit with a realization.

"Wait, Harry!"

"What?"

"I almost forgot!" He blurts out, throwing his hands in the air with a startling gesture. "Your present!"

Harry leans further back in the chair with a skeptical look as he watches the curly headed man dart into another room, hearing him shuffle around for a moment. Marv comes back with a goofy smile, holding a small box wrapped in newspaper and twine.

"Ta- da !"

Harry can't help but scoff with a simper, "Ya actually went through with it, huh?"

"'Course I did!"

"As long as it ain't a toy robot or somethin' stupid."

"Well, about that," Marv's face falls again for a moment and he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "I, uh… I had a tough time trying to figure out what to getcha, I mean… you aren't exactly an easy guy to pinpoint."

"Yeah?"

"I dunno, you just…" Marv tilts his head to the side, weighing his choice of words. "You kinda got an edge on you, man."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Marv quickly retracts, shaking his head. "But uh… here, just open it."

Marv holds the gift out to Harry, who hesitantly takes the box as if he's not sure whether it's a ticking time bomb or not.

"This ain't like one of those prank things, right?" Harry shoots Marv a weary glance. "Where a buzzer's gonna pop out 'n shock the shit outta me or somethin'?"

"What?" Marv blinks. "Nah, man, just open it."

Harry gives his partner another wary look before fumbling with the box and unknotting the bow tied with twine. He carefully peels pieces of tape off the newspaper until finally, a cardboard box is revealed and Harry slowly pulls out a snowglobe — a small scale replica of New York City encapsulated in a crystal dome, skyscrapers finely duplicated down to the exact details. He tilts the glass upside down and gently shakes it, watching the artificial snow fall on the tiny buildings.

"See, cause I remembered back at one of the houses, you said these were pretty neat, so I knew ya liked 'em and I just thought, I dunno," Marv begins to ramble. "I thought it'd be nice to getcha something that reminds you of home. You know, the Big Apple."

Harry is quiet for a minute, cupping his hands around the glass dome and watching the miniature snowflakes fall on the scaled-down city, slivers of white swirling in unseen currents.

He keeps a fixated gaze on the trinket as Marv takes a seat in an empty chair and clasps his hands together, gauging the other man's reaction while hesitantly picking at his cuticles.

"So… Do ya hate it?" Marv asks, voice faltering. His face is twisted in a half grimace with raised eyebrows, anticipating the cynic's reaction — whether that be a dirty look, some offhand comment about Christmas being for suckers, or a forthright kick to the shin. But the hostile reaction never comes, and Harry simply huffs with a warm look.

"Nah, I love it," he says curtly, the corners of his mouth turned up. "It's real nice, Marv."

Harry looks up, peering through hooded eyes with an expression Marv can't seem to place, then he smiles — a real, genuine smile, born from stolen ornaments and crowbars, Yule tidings and illegal festivities. And in that moment, Marv's face lights up like Times Square.

"No kiddin'," Harry chuckles lightly, and it's almost affectionate. "'S a good gift."

Marv exhales with a grin, relieved. "Ya think so?"

"I'm just surprised ya remembered," Harry quips with a smirk, elbowing his partner in crime. "What with you being a genius and all."

"Yeah, yeah…"

The two are sitting in the shabby living room and grinning like idiots as The Kink's " Father Christmas " begins to play from the radio, catchy melody and propulsive rhythms wafting through the dingy apartment along with the smell of peppermint vodka. And with a quick pat on the shoulder and a halfwitted exchange of words, the spirit of Christmas is proven to be well-alive in even the seediest of places — a dim bulb within the shadows of South Side Chicago, unlawfully merry to the first degree.