“You’re gonna become huge if you keep eating all of Santa’s cookies.”
Crumbs slip from the corner of his mouth, little freckles of brown and colored sugar as he turns around with haste, eyes wide and alert as they stare into the ones that are observing him with an air of accusation. “he doesn’t need anymore weight so in a way I’m saving him.” One hand is clasped upon the table where all of the sweets were placed, the small of his back yielding under the press of rounded mahogany and reeling out a a quiet protesting squeak from the furniture. The other hand has a gingerbread who’s met its obvious demise through decapitation, its ugly looking sweater constructed of intricate frosted lines now the only indication that the confection was made with care. “I always get hungry at this time of night and I thought they were just free food before the holidays,” he tries to explain before he remembers how guilty he looks, a hard swallow that punctuating his words a little too suddenly. “Do….do you want the last half of this one and then we could just act like none of this happened.” It would be a genuinely kind gesture were it ridden of the guilt that has his bottom lip tucked and his forehead dimpled with stress, an arm outstretched with the evidence of his crime.
