[For Layla]
Christmas had never held that much importance in the Madrox household, and Jamie had had enough Christmases throughout adulthood through his various dupes that he had as many good memories as bad ones. Still, it was his second Christmas Eve on the Island, now, and while he preferred the decor of the previous year, he undoubtedly preferred the company this time around, dog and all. In a concession to the blatantly obvious theme, he'd stuck an antler on Richards' head, and gone around calling him Max for the better part of the day, but evening had long since fallen, and the dog was now curled up on the pink rug in front of the dying fire.
Jamie, meanwhile, was taking advantage of the Who-styled couch that had appeared with the snow, one leg drawn up to his chest so he could prop his script up on his knee. The play was opening in a few days, and there were always more preparations to be made, especially since he'd given the cast and crew the day off for the holiday, regardless of whether or not they even celebrated. He held his pen between his teeth, biting down on the end of it as he considered another last minute revision of a stage direction that had been giving them trouble, though he'd been staring at the same page long enough that his eyes were starting to cross from the strain of making out the words in the low light. Stifling a yawn, he pulled it out of his mouth, and turned to face Layla, lifting the back of his hand to rub tiredly at his eyes. While they'd fallen into a somewhat comfortable silence, it was no secret that Jamie couldn't stay quiet for long, the stillness striking him as unsettling.
Apropos of nothing, he asked, "D'you think Santa'll come tonight?"
Jamie, meanwhile, was taking advantage of the Who-styled couch that had appeared with the snow, one leg drawn up to his chest so he could prop his script up on his knee. The play was opening in a few days, and there were always more preparations to be made, especially since he'd given the cast and crew the day off for the holiday, regardless of whether or not they even celebrated. He held his pen between his teeth, biting down on the end of it as he considered another last minute revision of a stage direction that had been giving them trouble, though he'd been staring at the same page long enough that his eyes were starting to cross from the strain of making out the words in the low light. Stifling a yawn, he pulled it out of his mouth, and turned to face Layla, lifting the back of his hand to rub tiredly at his eyes. While they'd fallen into a somewhat comfortable silence, it was no secret that Jamie couldn't stay quiet for long, the stillness striking him as unsettling.
Apropos of nothing, he asked, "D'you think Santa'll come tonight?"