"I'm not buying this shit," I growl, staring you down with eyes hard as granite. "Don't give me the 'I'm just an elf' act, either."

Slinging my legs over the side of my chair, I stand, the darkness gleaming around me with danger. Sometimes those you come to spread a little bit of out-of-season cheer to are drunk, asleep, forgetful. Some sad, some happy, many simply groaning sleepily in the heat. But not me. I'm awake, and alert, and angry, in my chair by the door with the sarcastic little bait tree poised shabbily on a shelf.

"You know what I asked for last real Christmas?" I grunt, my gaze never flinching from your face. "It doesn't matter. There's this bit about lies I read once- sieve down the universe into its smallest grains, and show me one atom of love, one speck of mercy, one drop of faith. The idea being you need to believe in little lies like elves and Santa and all that other shit, so you can believe the big ones like love and joy and honor."

I laugh.

"That's bullshit too." Waving a hand carelessly around the darkened apartment, I loom overhead, human and present and choked with pain and anger. A better man would apologize, a worse man would take what gifts he could, but I just... wait.

A lazy little flourish of my fingertips accompanies a humorless smirk, as I stoop to check my watch. "Christmas in July, huh? Look at the time, elf. I've said goodbye to all that. All the nonsense, all the magic."

"Free from dreams," I whisper, sinking back into my chair with a hollow laugh.

"Happy independence day."