Kyaris steps out into the hall, throwing a brown cloak around her neck. With the long brown cloak, casual blue robes, and tall leather boots, she looks like every other person out for a winter walk.

"I don't think I understand," she tells him. "But I also don't think that I have to. Do you know where you want to start?"

"Oh, let's start right here," Santa replies, pointing across the hall to her neighbor's door. "Do you knock, in Central River City?"

"We do," Kyaris agrees, giving the door a set of deliberate raps in the 'non-urgent brief interaction request' pattern.

A moment later, the door opens to reveal a small man with mousey brown hair.

"Yes?" he asks.

"Hello, Mosavilh," Kyaris greets him. "This is Santa, a magical alien who wants to give you a gift."

Mosavilh is an easy neighbor to get along with — they see each other once every few weeks, and she's never needed to talk to him in an official capacity. He is not someone she's too worried about overwhelming.

"Merry Christmas!" Santa adds, handing him a box patterned with leaves. "A new set of knives, for your kitchen."

"Oh! Well, I don't know how you knew I needed them, but thank you," Mosavilh responds. "I'll put them to good use."

He nods to Kyaris, and closes the door.

"That went well," Santa remarks, as he strolls toward the next neighbor. "Let me see ... oh, this family has children. That's always a delight!"

And so Santa and Kyaris work their way through the apartment building. Santa doesn't stop at every door — although whether that is because they're not home, not in need of a gift, or he doesn't want to give them one she can't tell. At some doors, he leaves a patterned box without a word. At others, he takes a moment to exchange bright words, and explain the gift he has.

By the time they make it out of the apartment, they've been joined by two on-duty Emergency Services personnel in purple pants.

"... and then we can take the train up to the Eastern side," Kyaris explains, gesturing with her hands to explicate the layout of the city. "But I do think we should start down that way."

Santa nods gently.

"I think you're right."

He looks down the street at a man in a large orange hat, tucked into an alcove between two buildings and gently rocking.

"Tell me about him," he asks. "He needs a present, but I don't think he needs me to give it to him."

"Oh! That's Vormelha," Kyaris explains. "He works checking building regulation compliance for the city, but he doesn't like to be inside buildings during his off hours. We bump into each other pretty often, making our rounds. Maybe I could give it to him?"

Santa hands her a stiff dusty sienna backpack.

Kyaris walks over to stand by Vormelha, although she angles her body away from him, and focuses on the roof of the opposite building instead. Her colleagues hang back.

She stands silently for a minute, and then sets the backpack down next to him.

"A gift, from the man with the beard," she remarks. "I hope it serves you well."

"That building has twenty-seven birds on it," he informs her. "For now."

She nods, and makes her way back over to the others.

"That's why I wanted to come with you," she explains. "Some people need the world to be gentle, and I've been working as a mediator for the city for hexades."

"I welcome the help," Santa tells her.

He bends down to hand a toy helecopter to a girl who goes running past, a cheerful "Thank you!" echoing over her shoulder, and then walks over to her parent to hand them a bag.

"In Myra, I like to think I fulfilled a similar role. Nowadays ..."

He pauses thoughtfully as they walk down to the train station.

"The trick to being a spirit of a holiday, is to recognize your dual nature," he says. "It is both true that I fly around the world in a single night, bringing presents to everyone — and true that the people who give gifts on Christmas give them in my name. When you give a gift to someone, for no reason other than to make their lives better, your hands are my hands, and my strength your strength."

He hands Kyaris a small box and points to a young woman sitting on the bench by the station entrance.

"So I am no stranger to working through intermediaries."

"That's Tana," Kyaris supplies, taking the box and feeling how light it is.

She walks over to her.

"Hello, Tana," she says. "How are you?"

Tana blinks and straightens up, her eyes focusing on Kyaris's face.

Mediator Kyaris, she signs. Are you on patrol?

Kyaris shakes her head.

"Not officially. Zakrimit and Verhatis are," she responds, pointing to where Zakrimit is talking softly into his phone and Verhatis is wrangling a luggage cart out of storage and wheeling it over to Santa.

"That man has presents for people," she tells Tana. "He wanted you to have this."

She takes the box hesitantly. Tana moves around a lot, between a perpetual cycle of romantic partners that never last much longer than it takes her to get to know them. She doesn't have much stuff — and doesn't need much stuff. Better to travel light.

She opens the box, and smiles.

Thank him for me, she signs. I need a new watch, because Polmali stole my last one.

"Did you report it?" Kyaris asks gently.

Tana shakes her head.

I don't ... you know how much detail they always want.

"I keep telling City Hall to make the form simpler," Kyaris agrees. "I'll let Zakrimit know anyway, and we'll just keep a note of it in case Polmali is willing to talk about it. You have a good night, Tana."

Tana nods, and hooks the chain of the watch on to her collar.

You as well, she agrees.