Vasaria, Germany
Room 42 of a quaint little hotel on Christmas morning
As the early morning sun begins to crest over the horizon, painting the sky shades of red, purple, and orange, two voices speak in mildly hushed tones.
"Jeebus, you take all the fun out of everything. You with all your seriousness and your coolness. You're so seriously cool, Mister Sear E. Ous; Mister Coolster
McCoolypants." Alex began, pulling her pillow from behind her head and playfully whacking Grimm with it.
"Okay, I get it, now ease up, it's Christmas." He took the pillow from her and stacked it on top of his own, grinning and sticking his tongue out at her.
"Mmmm, have I told you lately that, for a big, burly guy with a skull for a head, you're kinda cute when you're being all serious-like?" she curled up next to him, laying her head on his chest, the normalcy of the act just slightly offset by her companion's unusualness.
As they began drifting back to sleep she suddenly opened her eyes again, as if realizing something. "Hey," she said again. "I thought you weren't gonna sleep in that mask that doctor, what's his name, Quanto? made for you."
"Quantos. And I didn't. I took it off, remember? You wanted to see if I could reform one of my own. I did, and we kept drinking until you passed out. Now go back to sleep." He lay there, unmoving, except to wrap an arm around her waist.
"But I thought you said they only lasted a few hours before they melted off." she continued on.
"They do. What's your-" His eyelids popped open. He reached up a hand and touched his cheek. His cheek, not the plastic alloy Quantos' genius had come up with. They shot up and ran to the bathroom where they looked into the mirror, jaws slack.
"What time did we do that last night?" he said, eyes on his face.
"About six-thirty or seven." she answered, stroking one of his cheeks.
"What time is it now?" he asked.
"Umm, quarter to seven. Sun's coming up." She looked out at the clock on the nightstand then at the light beginning to come through the areas where the curtains didn't quite close off.
"Fuck me. . .twelve hours." he looked at her then. She smiled and kissed him.
"It's a Christmas miracle." she said. "We can go eat breakfast."
On a hilltop in Haven, a lonely red haired woman named Rowena spoke softly in the early morning sunlight. "Merry Christmas, Grimm."
Last edited by Grimm; 2004-01-18 2:06 PM.
