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Of course he knew the man in the mall wasn't Santa Claus. Albert also knew the Santa Tracker used every year was just a silly thing to delight and excite children too young to know better. He was, after all, a grown adult with grown children of his own (and even a grandchild). Albert knew that the jolly present-giver wasn't actually real.

But... well. Some part of him just didn't want to stop visiting the mall santa. He tried to tell his brother that it was just because he liked seeing how happy all the children who got to meet 'Santa' were, but somehow Albert didn't think Tom actually believed him. And maybe Rosie was too little to do much here just yet, and maybe Tom's twins were too old (as evidenced by them running straight to the video game shop the first chance they had, allowance in hand), but meeting Santa was not something he wanted to do for himself.

... Really.

Of course, he hadn't expected an irritated, hurried woman to storm up to them both, and he squeaked in surprise, half-hiding behind Tom before he processed what the woman was saying. Needed them... up front? What. Oh.

Oh good lord, was he going to get to help Santa?!?

"Ah! Of course, of course, terribly sorry about this," he hastened to reassure the woman, and elbowed Tom sharply to get him to play along. "I'm afraid we forgot where the costumes are kept. Could you point us in the right direction?"

"No!" Albert yelped as soon as he had his costume in hand, one hand coming up to rub at his sore ear. "Tom, I swear, I don't know what's going on. I didn't expect it and I certainly didn't arrange it." He sighed and shook out the top of his costume, frowning slightly when he noticed there were tights with it. "I simply believe we need to roll with it - you saw how the line's been backing up, and if we can help I don't see why we shouldn't."

Turning an imploring gaze to his brother, he set about changing. "Think of all those disappointed little ones, Tom! And how much help we could be to them!" And now he grimaced, taking the tights in hand and shaking them. "At the very least, look at it this way: you don't have to wear these."

"I hand the mantle off with grace and dignity," Albert said, and wiggled the tights at his brother. "Unless you want to try to fit into these." Really, he didn't understand why his brother was putting up such a fuss. There was nothing wrong with being Santa Claus to a nice mall full of people!

"You don't have to do anything but listen to kids' holiday wishlists, really. Just treat them like you would your own kids when they were small." ...Speaking of tom's kids, he really hoped they weren't off getting into any trouble, now that he and Tom were busy elsewhere. But that was a thought for another time. Right now, he had a whiny brother to deal with.

"Honestly, you'd think I was sending you to the gallows!"

"You arte a traitor, Albert." Tom drawled. "And do you really want to treat them like my children? I mean.... They're my children, not a stranger's. And besides, these children also get a photograph. I'm not sure they'd want a photo with me..."

And Tom hated to admit, he was painfully camera-shy. Something about them unsettled him greatly.

Like giant eyes. STARING. STEALING HIS SOUL.

Still, tights.....

"Youir well aware our children aren't going to letyou live tights down, right?"

As Tom worked on the santaq suit, he turned the topic on Albert and the tights. Spoken or not, Albert was clearly wary of them, a fact Tom would exploit.

"Especially Wrenny!"

"That's the easy part." Tom noted. "It's the cameras that're the horrible part. I can't close my EYES Albert. Those things will be watching me."

Tom shivered again, then scowled, one brow raising.

"Albert. I'm stuck having my photo taken by strangersd because you and the twins wanted to see Santa." The larger man huffed, smoothing his clothing carefully. "You owe me."

"Wait, you don't mean..." And Tom flushed, scowling.

"Alex and Sami? Really?? But - WHY?"

WHY WOULD HIS CHILDREN SACRIFICE HIM TO AN ANCIENT EDLER GOD LIVING IN CAMERAS?!....

OK maybe not an elder god but.

...The twins... Made too much sense, and Tom raised a bgrow.

"At least we'll be paid." He drawled, before smirking sjharply.

"Now Elfbert, we can do better than ground them. I mean, you can manage the line, yes? Simply ensure they reach the front of the line for their wonderful photos with Santa. And AFTER work we'll ground them."

Tom grinned wickedly, tenting his fingers.

"And then we'll make gingerbread men. They shall not have any tonight."