He opened his eyes to see the elf had leaned in close with barely-restrained excitement. In fact, she was so close that their noses almost touched. He stared into those twinkling green eyes for a moment. There was an odd tension. Something that made the hairs on his arms stand up, and created a different kind of pleasant warmth in the pit of his stomach.

“What's your name?" he asked.

“Oh yeah!" She leaned back and clapped her hand to her forehead.

“I'm such a dumbass. I'm Callie." She stepped back and offered him a formal bow of introduction.

“I'm one of Santa's Helpers as well as a whipper-upper of delicious hot chocolates, and apparently a truly shitty driver of flying sleighs." She tilted her head back and look at the giant hole in the ceiling.

“Really sorry about that. I'LL have the workers come and take care of it before it rains."

“Nice to meet you Callie. I'm Wendall." He took another sip of the cocoa and extended his free hand to shake hers.

She seemed delighted by that, and took his hand in both of hers to shake it vigorously. Whilst she did he took the time to consider her now that she was up close.

More locks of bright red hair had spun out from beneath the rim of her hat, and they made those deep tinsel-green eyes seem to come alive in new ways. Her face was prettily slender, with high cheek bones and a downright infectious smile. Freckles were smattered across her naturally rosy cheeks on otherwise flawlessly creamy skin. Though she carried a youthful appearance, her eyes reflected a deep and alluring wisdom and an impish mischief that was perhaps a little more naughty than nice. He would have placed her in the early to mid-twenties.

She wore a simple emerald green smock pulled tight to her waist with a thick black leather belt clasped with a gleaming golden buckle. The smock buttoned up the front with matching golden buttons, and beneath it the thick red and white leggings were plainly visible from beneath the short skirt of the dress.

“Hey Wendall, my eyes are up here," though she chided him, the smile never quite Left her lips.

Realising he'd been staring at her, he immediately lifted his gaze to meet hers and felt the heat rising to his cheeks.

“I'm sorry, Callie. I... I don't quite know what to make of all this.

Although I'm rather sure you've demolished the roof of the wrong man.

I'm 41 years old. I think if I were Santa Claus I'd know about it by now." He took another sip of the delicious drink.

“I never said you were Santa Claus. I said you were the next Santa

Claus." Getting down to business, she took her own cup of hot chocolate before stuffing it with as many marshmallows as she could get away with and finally taking a big glug.

"What?" He Let out a small Laugh. "Like in that movie with Tim Allen?”

“Who's Tim Allen?”

“He was a guy in a movie about Santa Claus.”