January 1st - Suitably Warm
A worn brown leather chair idly watches the flames flicker in front of itself. Soft snores escape slowly around the chair's side as he lays there licking his lips between the noises. His hand gleefully wrapped around the barrel of an ancient smith and western. A thick blanket covers his feet and a good portion of his body. With every passing moment a snap and break from the fire place seem to speak into the room.
The man rolls his head slightly, revealing a long jagged cut that runs down his face and across his neck. He lets out another snore and pulls the gun closer to his body. A narrow squeak from the wooden floorboards behind him sound faint in the distance. Another squeak as the weight transfers from one foot to another. Each one inching closer. The flames dance and light the area around the chair, but hide everything behind it in darkness. A mauve pointed dress shoe creeps out of the shadows for only a second as it makes its own way closer.
The shallow breathes of the new guest creep closer and mingle with his tempered breathing and crackling of the fire. Something clicks in the darkness as the form moves closer. The floorboards announce each approaching step. A flutter of eye movement happen to the man in the chair. He moves his head again, but stays asleep.
A thin wisp of a hand reaches around the edge of the chair.
The dainty fingers of a glove wrap themselves around the mouth of the gentleman. He doesn't struggle, but his grip loosens from the gun in his hand. His eyes open for a moment, one a deep green the other a pale white. They then close permanently as another gloved hand reaches down to the barrel.
"You won't be needing this any time soon, my lord." A warm voice console from behind. "Just relax and enjoy the fire." The room seems to slowly fill with smoke as the gloves recede. They take with them the gun, but leave the gentleman and his blanket. Orange and yellow lights dance within the increasing temperature and smoke. A pristine white calling card falls onto the gentleman's lap. Yours Truly, Evaline Sparks.
