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It stood to reason that Thanksgiving was barely over before Yuletide preparations started up. Christmas was business. Everywhere had begun to be festooned with decorations and tinsel and large, gracious Christmas trees -- some not quite so gracious, as Casca Naborn noted with a critical eye, simply more crunchy -- and the weather had a cold snap. This put most people in a festive mood.

At home, in fact, his mother had taken to the festivities and was braiding endless supplies of streamers to tack up everywhere. Decoration was mainly her business, and she had kicked Casca out the house to be with his 'sister', Aunt Mia. Mia and Casca had a good relationship: it was a mutual, stark contempt. Mia was manic depressive. She considered the young gargoyle a massive fake. They were at cold war.

And so both of them had gone together to see the light show.

It had been set up in the park; you paid an admission to go in at the gates, and then walked throughout the winter wonderland, where snow was even swirling conveniently overhead in a light flurry. Animatronic reindeer made of lights squeakily bowed their heads and kicked their legs next to an epileptically blinking Saint Nick. Children shrilled in appreciation at the light-up gingerbread house. It was evening, so at least he felt awake, but it was probably a waste to use up his good night hours on a light show.

Mia stuck her free hand inside her pockets, wrapped up overmuch in a thick and ancient coat with a scarf wrapped squarely around her neck. Her bright citrus hair was pinned up haphazardly on top of her face; Mia was incredibly blue-eyed and beautiful, pale and delicate-looking. Well, she would have been, only it was ruined somewhat by the fact that she also had an expression like she'd sucked a lemon, mouth pale and drawn. "This is the worst thing I've ever done," she said flatly. "I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I'm doing this here. I can't believe I'm doing this with you."

Her little 'brother' sipped on a coffee. Starbucks. She had one in her hand, too, though she was too busy looking sickened. His expression was unruffled. "I knew you'd like it, Aunt Mimi," he said, "it's the most wonderful time of the year."

"I'm going to take your magical stuff off and take a sledgehammer to you during the day."

"Oh, Christmastime, oh, Christmastime, signora."

"Don't use your Italian bullshit on me," she said tiredly, "you always sound like a greasy soap opera character. God, let's get through this as quick as possible so I can throw up on Mrs. Mary Christmas at the end of it."

"'As you wish.'"

"Shut your can, Westley."

There were small groups of people wandering around through the park, on the few set 'routes' of the light show. It was probably inevitable that they run into some people from school; and then Casca Naborn came out of the crowd with a pretty, bundled-up woman in tow, who was sipping her latte and looking bored to death.

"Hi, Antony," said the gargoyle; his wings were cloaked over his shoulders, but he didn't appear to have any real winter clothes other than a scarf. Probably didn't need them, considering. His breath made a slight puff in the brisk cold; and he was a little guarded, as though not quite sure how friendly to be. They hadn't really gotten on the last time, though Casca seemed polite enough now. "Hi, Mr. Shade."

"That one of your friends?" said the young woman.

"Antony goes to my school, Mimi," said Casca, which could've been a no.

Mia looked a little blankly at Antony, taking him in; she looked at him from the top of his head down to the bottoms of his feet, trench coat included, with her deep blue eyes. "How's the goth thing working out for you," she said, and went back to the coffee.

"Ha ha, Mia likes making jokes," Casca explained, patient and smilingly, like someone walking around with a mental patient. The smile showed his sharp teeth.

She pulled her free hand out of her pocket and shook Shade's, a bit limply, but at least she shook it. For a moment she'd stared at his hand as though forgetting handshakes existed. "Mia," she said to him, "I'm Lindy's daughter."

"Which makes you my sister."

"We share no DNA."

Ignoring that, Casca smiled again, easily. "Seen anyone else around, Antony?" Probably that could also be translated as, seen anyone else around who I possibly need to go say hi to, as he was a young social climber. "Should've come with my les petit amis."

"Do you know how French you are?" Mia was saying, taking a swig of her coffee. "0%. That's how French you are."

"Been here long?" the gargoyle said again patiently, like she hadn't spoke.

"No, not long," Antony said, mildly wondering who his les petit amis, or little friends were. He hadn't actually ever seen Casca talking to someone in school. Of course they weren't in the same area, so maybe he was missing something.

"Charmed," Shade said with an easy smile, directing it at Carlisle for a second. "How's it going, Carl? And Lindy's a great teacher," he added for Mia's benefit. "She's made quite an impact on Antony," he added with none of his evilness showing in the least. Antony still had to fight the urge to kick him for it. Shade, of all the people around him, knew how much Antony disliked the woman's teaching methods.

They were far too... nonsensical and unstructured for the boy with the obsessive compulsive personality.

"She's very educating," Antony said simply.

"I'm all right," he said, adding really really really all right in his head. "How are you? And, Ms. Lindy is nice," Carlisle agreed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Banana virginity? What the heck? He was not going to ask. Ever. He knew the word 'virgin' (though he couldn't spell it for his life) and didn't want to know what it had to do with bananas. No way.

Instead, he shook his head. "No ma'am, I don't think they teach that to my class." It probably was one of the first lessons for the older kids, though. Where was Sugita? Glancing over his shoulder, he could barely make her out at one of the flashing animatronic elves a bit back, around one of the bends in the path.

Casca might have blushed. Oh, God, his reputation. Mimi was going to ruin his reputation. Now he was going to have to bribe the holy hell out of Carlisle to try to keep his yap shut that Casca had a crazy sister-aunt who talked about banana virginities.

Mia was snickering vaguely at Shade's joke, but Shade was allowed to make jokes: he was the gym teacher. "It's okay," was all he said, shrugging one shoulder expressively. "Wish the snow would stick. Don't you?" The flash of a smile was turned on Carlisle now, warm and bright, like he was swinging from mood to mood. "White Christmas."

"I gotta admit, I wouldn't mind a snow day," Shade said. "It's gorgeous, don't you think?" he asked as he lifted a hand to catch a snowflake. It melted with his body heat.

"I'm not actually that fond of the cold," Antony admitted, hugging the trench that was too wide through the shoulders and short at the legs to him. "I think I'll go winter clothes shopping tomorrow. A new coat will be first on the list." A trench that fit him, he decided. Because it actually kept his legs rather warm. Just not in black or leather.

Reasonably, Carlisle said, "Well, of course the cold sucks, but you wouldn't have to go outside. That's the whole point of a snow day, right? Since school is all," he paused, trying to find the right words, "not here, and stuff." Ignore the Dutch proverbs, he didn't want to know that either because Dutch-ness had to do with dating, or so he'd been told. He shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his own wool coat, colder now for being reminded that he was outside in the winter weather.

"Oh man," he said with a fervent tone. If just those two classes were canceled, his day would improve so fast it would probably set the new land speed record for wherever the Liberty Center was. "Maths and science suck. Anything is better than chemistry."