Thursday, December 18, 2003
It was almost
midnight, when the doorbell rang. Probability said it had to be his employer,
but probability was malleable and mutable around him, therefore he had a spell
ready before opening the door. The spell seemed to wriggle and squirm in his
hand and around his fingers like a living thing, eager to erupt.
"Eve, welch Glanz in meiner bescheidenen Hütte, as the Germans say,"
Ethan said with an insincere smile, when he recognized the late visitor. He
shoved his hands into his pockets, unobtrusively storing the thaumaturgical
charm away. "Oh, I'm sorry, German's not your thing? Welcome to my humble
abode, then. Looses a bit in translation, of course, but the sentiment's still
there."
"Cut it out, Rayne" Eve replied, not in the mood for fake politeness,
and pushed past him into the small, cluttered, apartment. She didn't bother
looking around, knowing everything inside right down to the extra buttons for
the garish shirts the English warlock preferred.
"Can I offer you something. A biscuit maybe? They're good. Your lovely
Miss Burkle made them and was kind enough to share," Ethan said, pointing
towards a small tupperware dish that held a handful of gingerbread cookies.
There was a malicious glint in his eye.
Eve had no intention of touching either food or drink. "Enjoying yourself?"
"Who, me?"
Eve didn't sit, either. "Cute. Whatever you have planned for Saturday,
cancel it. You've already gone too far with the Santa stunt."
Ethan smiled, unfazed, and perched comfortably on the armrest of his shabby
sofa. "What makes you think I've got something planned? Would I do something
as perfidious and anti-social as disrupting the big office shindig everybody's
so looking forward to?"
"Do I have to remind you of your goals, Ethan?" Eve asked, smiling
sweetly, but in a voice made of steel. "Funny. I was under the impression
that they were whatever we want. We didn't get you out of Initiative
custody so you could indulge in your pranks. There are bigger things at stake."
"I had to cover my tracks," Ethan said with a shrug, entirely unrepentant.
"If you had kept your head down, as planned, there would have been no need
to turn our graphologies expert into a laughing Santa," Eve pointed out.
"And besides, you should have killed him. The minute Wesley breaks your
spell—and trust me, he will find a way—our jolly Santa will spill the beans
and blow your cover."
"Trust me, no one, not even your clever Ex-watcher, will be able to undo
my little ho-ho-ho spell. It's got a fascinating little failsafe woven into
it; I just wish I could see his face when he realizes that the spell acts like
a yo-yo, always snapping back into place. " Ethan smiled. "It should
keep him busy for weeks."
"Let me put it to you like this, Puck," Eve said. "If you blow
your cover, you're no longer of use to us. So you better make sure our jolly
Harold either keeps up his ho ho hos or stays silent forever."