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He hadn't received a text from Clarice in a long time. When he saw it, he felt the severity and shortness in its tone and knew this was something serious. So he scrambled out of bed, put on a clean(ish) shirt, some pants, and shrugged his coat over his shoulders before dropping Jezebel and his phone into his pocket.

Special Ops. There was no way to tell what kind of equipment that meant, but the first thing that ran through his mind was that, if they handed him a briefcase and sent him to Vegas again, he was handing Clarice his pink slip.

He showed up at the portal room seven minutes later, brushing a hand through his messy hair to try and tame it down.

The sight of Clarice had him grinning like a fool before she'd said a word. He knew full well about the gaps from casualties, but he never expected Clarice to try and fill one of them with him. In fact, he never expected to be trusted with anything. He took the bag and hugged it with one arm, his entire face struggling to remain professional and not look like a child who'd just been given an award. The attempt failed miserably, and a pathetic little noise escaped out of him.

"Okay boss." His words came out in a rush of expelled air after holding his breath to try and look serious, and he turned away quickly, toddling over to get changed and maybe cry where she couldn't see.

Being dropped off in a bathroom stall was awkward, and not entirely excitement-inducing, but at least it wasn't a dirty one. He took the garment bag into the disabled bathroom, where he'd have enough room to change in, and locked the stall door. Then he unzipped it and pulled the giant red outfit out, flattening it and holding it up to get a look at it.

Well. s**t. That was a Santa costume. When she said special ops, he knew it could be anything, but..

...maybe the Santa costume had super stealth secrets in it?! He hurriedly pulled his clothing off (because you were supposed to be naked under Santa suits, right?) and put on the giant red pants. Then he hovered the big fat top over his body and let it slide on him, careful to look for any wires or special pieces that might indicate that the suit was equipped with a camera or a gun or a bomb. Alas, it seemed like nothing but a Santa suit to him, and he pushed his feet into the big, shiny black boots.

Last but not least were the fun little accessories. Robert slapped a beard on his face, adjusting it to fit as well as he could before patting it down to stick to his skin. Then he flipped the hat on, and slid a pair of black gloves on his fingers. He shoved all of his normal clothing into the garment bag, grabbing his phone and shoving it down his pants real quick just in case, before zipping up and heading out.

He had no idea what he was supposed to do. But whatever it was, he was about to be real goddamn jolly about it.

Robert.. was..

...

in heaven.

As he was herded over to the display, he realized just what he was being asked to do. He ******** loved taking pictures with Santa. But now, now he was going to be a part of the magic of all these childrens Christmases by being their Santa. He could feel his chest tightening as he filled with such glorious purpose, such magical joy, that he let out a hearty, jiggly laugh.

"BA-HO-HO-HO!"

That set the children screaming like animals fighting for a carcass, and he knew he was the right man for the job. He was going to make Clarice so ******** proud.

If he could just hold that tongue of his.. for like, one minute..

He sat down in his throne, his ******** throne, bitches, and patted his lap, calling forth the first child. He was totally in the moment, taking his role very seriously.

Robert's moment of magical wonderment came crashing down at his very first child. The kid climbed up on his lap, and Robert bounced him once, listening very carefully to his demands, but the giant smile on his face faded. Did this little boy really wanted a gun for his Christmas present? What was the world coming to, these days? It kind of broke his heart.

He'd had a bb gun when he was a kid. He remembered accidentally shooting Petra right in the face, once. She was mad at him for weeks. Now, all he could picture was the little boy growing up just to be inducted into Deus Ex, and die a bloody, gorey death, all because he was the kind of boy who liked to play with guns.

Well, not on his watch.

Robert put a candy cane on his face, and shook his head.

"You'll shoot your eye out, kid." He warned, picking him up and putting him back on the ground. When the boy didn't leave, Robert gently nudged him with his boot.

"HOOO HOOOO HOOOOOO."

This all seemed.. so familiar..

Oh, geez. Robert tried not to look at the kid as he was escorted by an elf, sobbing and snotty, away from the display. Five minutes in and he'd made a kid cry.

Yep. That was about on par for a typical mall Santa.

"WHO'S NEXT HO HO HO-" The laughter caught in his throat and he hacked up a lung.

Holy s**t this kid was pissed. Robert had to stare at her for a second, because despite how absolutely angry she was at the fallacy of Santa Claus, she was so gosh darned cute. He tugged on one of her ringlets, muttering something under his breath in a cutesy voice about how itsy bitsy cutie patootie she was, before he cleared his throat and got to the meat of her problem. She didn't believe in Santa. And why should she? He WAS made up. But that didn't mean he wasn't magical and important.

"Listen, sweetheart. I'm right here, aren't I? And you're sittin' on my lap, yelling at my face. So I'm not a made up guy. But I think you're a smart kid for knowin' that I don't do some of the stuff people say I do, like go in your houses and leave you gifts." He spoke to her in a very hushed voice, keeping his tone low. "See, I have a secret. But you gotta keep this secret, because it's my biggest secret in the world, and if you tell anyone, I'll have to stop." He bent in and whispered into her ear.

"When someone becomes a mommy or a daddy, I hire them to help me make their children super happy every single Christmas. So when you get those presents under the tree, it's your mommy and daddy being Santa's Little Helpers. Because all I ever want is to make sure you have the best Christmas ever, every year."

He pulled away from her, and gave her a giant, goofy smile.