The Demon Prosecutor

((OOC: Back around Christmas of last year we started this thread, then stopped, then started, then stopped... Almost exactly six months later--a personal record!--we're finally done with it. We were trying for Christmas in July, but with the dream virus happening we couldn't wait that long. So...enjoy some Christmas in June? 8D?))



He ate in on Christmas Eve. His meal consisted of a thick, rich beef stew and the perfect accompaniment, a crisp, white bread, a day stale.

He drank in, as well. A glass of an Australian Syrah with dinner, another after their evening walk; he had a cup of tea while he finished up the work he'd managed to bring home, but when the work ran out he was (perhaps a bit too) quick to open a California Cab.

He stayed in all evening. Venturing out into the garishly decorated streets for anything other than absolute necessity was out of the question. Even in the half hour it took him to take Sigi on his walk he was accosted by three sets of revelers (bedecked in fuzzy red and white hats, and apparently much deeper in the bottle than he was, if their slurred, off-pitch renditions of Christmas carols were any indication) and dozens of the godawful light displays and tacky plastic decorations that made it impossible to forget the date.

( He was only too happy to escape to his apartment. )