He hovers next to the tree they had decorated the night before, armed with a present wrapped in plain brown paper and tied off with a twine bow. Looking around the room, her home -- their home, so graciously shared with him despite him crashing in unannounced with a spaceship's (and lifetime's) worth of alien nonsense in tow, he feels -- humbled. A simple man, for once, instead of a living legend. It's not a bad feeling. He turns the package around in his hands, before clearing his throat, and finally offers it to the mechanic with a small, nervous smile. "Merry Christmas, Charley-girl."
(For Charley! Stoker got her some new cold-weather gloves and a scarf to keep her cozy!)
What a night. Having tested the limits of her good old 16 wheeler, driving around Chicago, with a full cargo of charity presents. Last year she spent her day with a Christmas radio, this year she wasn't alone. Starting morning with good old Martian nonesense, continuing to delivering and gift-giving filled with fun and chaos. This year, she hadn't left or returned to an empty home. She could get used to this, just living with someone full time. It felt especially important in a time of a year everyone spoke about sharing and spending time with loved ones. Admire decorations, eat dinner and hit the hay.
Such a day was a gift already - doing something good, but also... sharing it with someone.
Still in pajamas, hair all over the place, she walks in to yet another gift for the year. "You got me a present! Ohhh, Stoker!" Arms spread and she catches him in a hug before there is a chance to hand it over. " Aaah. Thank you! I couldn't have asked more... Oh! But what is that. I think someone left something for you too! " Finger points over the shoulder, at the foot of the tree, hidden within green branches is a colorful packet: of course, Stoker deserves his own, festive sweater! || @caveatmentor