(Untitled)

[anycuntcould]

Oy, Saint Nick.

Fancy a pint to forget about the whole snorting your bones business?

Comments

[playstheblues]

Finally.

[anycuntcould]

Experience?

[playstheblues]

Why doesn't anyone believe me when I say that Santa's a crazy old stalker?

Also, welcome back.

[anycuntcould]

You too?

[playstheblues]

That I think Santa needs to die or that I know you?

[anycuntcould]

The second.

[playstheblues]

You're my boyfriend's ex.

We never talked much. Not because I'm jealous, more because I think I'm too clean-cut to hold your attention for very long.

That and luck magic.

[anycuntcould]

I see.

Is that what my last visit told you?

[playstheblues]

And that you've got a pretty wide irresponsible streak.

[anycuntcould]

What kind of mess did I leave behind?

[playstheblues]

Well to be fair, I wasn't here when it happened, so you're probably better off asking someone who was, but the word when I got back was...um.

You raised hell? And turned half the City into crazed demon-possessed psychos.

Oh, and I'm Blue, by the way.