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Well, I am happy to inform you, PSA-Man, whoever you are, your stern warnings when I was a wee innocent child did not go to waste. I recognized the red flags, knew immediately to veer away—yet decided to stay put anyway.

Okay so maybe they were a waste.

Yeah, I’d probably be kidnapped a lot.

“Just received a fresh batch of ingredients an hour earlier,” The man spoke, lining up fruits on the cutting board. A colorfully stained, white apron shielding his sleek, fancy coat beneath. “Just so you’re informed, I take immense pride in my craft, especially the fruity variety. I daresay I know a knife like no one else.”

Then he began cutting, dicing, slicing with such ease and skill, that I felt a shiver shoot through me that had nothing to do with the cold.

“So, do tell me,” He segregated each slice piece in separate containers, placing bare, rugged hands upon the container, an almost blood-curdling smile poking out his bearded chin. “What will it be?”

“Choco…late…” Adalia answered, unfazed and ignorant, the fuzzy ball of her santa hat swaying languidly with her eagerness. “A big… one… please…”

The man inclined his smartly-groomed head. “An excellent choice,” then like a hawk spotting a bunny in a barren field, he drifted his gaze over toward me. “And what would you like?”

.....

“Just the lady,” I said, mustering a polite smile. “Not really thirsty.”

“No?” He slowly whirled to his station with a frown, hands flying on shelves prepping Adalia’s order. “Shame. It would have been my pleasure to serve you a drink myself. Raincheck, maybe?”

Yeah, maybe if I want to be convulsing on the snow ten minutes later. I know, I know, I’m just being paranoid, distrustful. I’m more than aware he didn’t mean anymore harm. But in my defense, it’s kinda hard to shake off first impressions.

“Yeah, maybe…” I simply said.

Cordial and welcoming as he was now, he’s not really out of my naughty list just yet.

“Quite a delight as well, by the way, to see that you’ve made it to this little community event of ours,.” He said, raising his voice over the whirr of a blender. “How are you liking it so far? I do hope our commodities are finding you well.”

“They’re fine,” I replied, unsure how to continue this small talk. “Lots of people are having a blast though. So I suppose you’re doing a pretty good job so far.”

“I aim only to please,” He said, forming a little humble smile.

How warped of a reality is it really, when the secret mob boss of the city is doing a better job at organizing a communal celebration for the sake of everyone’s happiness than actual legit organizations meant solely for these kinds of things?

Says a lot about society, truly.

“Forgive me, if I’m overstepping my boundaries for but a moment,” The crooked man said, readying a large empty cup on the counter. “But I was under the expectation that, if you were ever to be visiting here at all, surely you would be visiting with that other girl—Ash was her name, yes? How come you’re not with her?”

Once again, I felt myself clench at the sound of Ash’s name leaving his lips. Something about his voice, low, cool, and too eerily cordial that just gives me the Wilvur-Willies. I don’t like it.

And I especially don’t like him mentioning her now, specifically now—not on this date, for God’s sake.

“Because I’m with her instead,” I said, jutting over at the unmoving, unblinking statue beside me. “That’s all I’ll say on that.

“You know… Ash…?” The silent Adalia uttered, cocking her head at the man with a renewed sense of interest. “How do you… know… Ash…?”

The crooked man took the briefest moment to assess Adalia. I could see it in his cold, calculating eyes, comprehending, understanding, before finally seeing her for what she truly was.

“Consider me a friend,” He said warmly. “A knowing friend.”

He then turned away to continue on with the order, and watching him shamble and limp trying to reach a can of whipped cream on the other end finally had me questioning the very absurdity of this whole situation.

“Why are you handling a smoothie stall?” I asked. “You’re the organizer. You, uh, you organize, right? That’s your job?”

“One of my men had met with an unfortunate incident, a few days back. I had stationed him here, and he is now unable to do so,” came the short, concise explanation overhead through the clink and clatter of tools. “Until the noon shift arrives, I have chosen to temporarily offer my assistance. As for the man in question, well…”

That’s when we heard it, the soft scrunch of snow being treaded behind us, audible grunts of pain and discomfort drawing ever closer. I turned around, and at once, I had to blank out my expression out of simple courtesy… for shuffling and hobbling towards our stall was perhaps the ugliest Christmas Elf I had ever laid eyes upon.

While I’m not exactly sure how Santa treats his tiny little workers, I don’t think they’re usually walking on crutches, or have bandages wrapped around their heads, or even with one of their arms hanging in a cast, and yet… here one was… green uniformed, pointy shoes, and all, reporting dutifully for duty.

“B-Boss…” He managed to slur through puffy lips, wedging himself between Adalia and I. “The stage is… all set for t-tonight’s… tonight’s announcement.”

“Good, that’s very good,” The big boss nodded, adding onto the finishing touches, deep in focus. “Go find Jordan, tell him to relieve you. Go home afterward.”

The poor elf-man attempted to nod his head in dismissal, couldn’t, and settled on groaning instead. Then just as stiffly, and agonizingly, he rotated himself around again, and just as he was doing so, momentarily locked eyes with Adalia.

What happened next was anyone’s guess, honestly. I’ve never seen blood drain so fast from a person’s face, nor heard a shriek as high-pitched as the kind he yelped out. With a burst of speed that did not at all match his injuries, he staggered far, far, and away from us, still gasping and panicking as he did.

“You said something?” I asked, turning to Adalia and exchanging blank looks. “Look at him funny?”

But before any of us could decide on one thing or the other, her chocolate smoothie wedged between our sights, served up by the same bare, rugged hands of startling efficiency.

“Here you are,” the crooked man flashed a kindly smile. “For the fair lady.”

Bequeathed by the sketchy man with delicious candy. Ah, seriously, nothing but bad vibes. Whatever, Adalia got her drink, she’s slurping it, enjoying it, we can finally move on now.

“How much?” I asked, preemptively reaching a hand into my pockets, but then the man flash an instant look, and my muscles froze there.

“How much?” He repeated airily, amused. “Do you not recall my offer from the other day? Everything here henceforth is free of charge for you and yours. I’ll make sure to let everybody know. Keep a lookout for a lovely lady and a guy in a funny cloak.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“No, I don’t,” He agreed, bowing his head curtly at me. “But I’m going to.”

And that’s the extent of my defiance right there. What, I’m gonna argue against a mobster’s kind act of generosity? Do you want me to have cinder blocks for legs? If free’s free, then alright… no complaints from me.

“Appreciate it,” I said, slowly slithering my hand into Adalia’s and turning us the opposite way. “Guess we’ll see you around.”

“Hold on,” He suddenly said.

Didn’t even take two forward before he had us drifting back around beneath his stall’s awning once more. He stared at us for a moment, his expression apologetic, but his eyes rousing, gazing… with something else lurking.

“If I may be so presumptuous again,” He began slowly. “Are you two… out here on a date?”

Adalia was too busy sipping savourly away to bother answering, so that left me to clarify things.

“We are.”

“You are?” He raised a brow. “But I assumed that Ash-girl would be—”

“Then perhaps you just assumed wrong. Can we please go now?”

But he ignored my pleas. And that look in his eyes brightened, his smile subtly turning into one of ominous dread. To me at least, I felt dread. Those ringing PSAs in my head. Stranger danger.

“We have a competition currently ongoing, were you aware of that?” He inquired.

I shook my head.

“Running alongside many others. But this one, I feel, might just catch your interest.”

“And why’s that?” I asked.

“Because it’s a competition designed exclusively for visitors like you,” He replied, slowly drifting his gaze from me to Adalia. “The best couple competition,” He proclaimed, smiling even wider now. “A competition where you may display and prove your unwavering love to your one and only, to put it in other words.”

At once, the faint sound of slurping came to a silent stop, deafening silence, as Adalia withdrew her lips from the tip of her straw. She blinked, focus rousing, both attention and interest undivided.

“A… competition… of… love…?”

And judging by the lesser emptiness in her tone, it seems Adalia had been completely snared by the sketchy man’s offer of candy.

And he knew it too, nodding, beaming. “Interested?”

In hindsight, maybe I should have given her some PSAs myself.

Oh boy.