"So if we load up stuff for the kitchens, the train staff will see it sent there," Zakrimit explains as she returns to the group. "Normally, we'd want you to send it via normal mail, but the staff were alright with it this once, given the circumstances."

"Splendid!"

Santa begins piling up some neatly-sealed bamboo boxes of various foods on the carts Verhatis has wrangled over.

Once the carts are loaded, they hand them over to one of the station workers, and Kyaris leads the group over to the platform for the southbound train.

"So you've mentioned a bit about Christmas, but every holiday has its rituals. What else do you do, on Christmas?" she asks.

It feels wrong, somehow, to subtly pump this kind old man for details about his world, even if it's very tempting when presented with a magical alien. But if he is the embodiment of the holiday, then she suspects he won't have any problem telling her more about that.

"Oh! Well, the traditions have changed over time," Santa tells her, hooking his thumbs into his belt. "But there are some constants. Lights, for example. And singing! There's so much wonderful Christmas music."

The train pulls up, and Kyaris leads them into the compartment.

This particular train car is empty, so she doesn't feel as though she will be bothering anyone when she asks:

"Do you think you could teach us a few?"

"Of course!" Santa agrees.

And as the train clatters south, he teaches them the words to 'Deck the halls'.

"... and that song is sort of an extended answer to your other question," he remarks as they step off the train. "Since it lists some of the traditions for celebrating Christmas."

By and large, Þereminian cities try very hard to keep everything walkable and colocated. But as much as they fight, they cannot always win against the combined pressures of economic incentive and historical happenstance.

There are some areas of Central River City that are not very nice.

This area is a study in contrasts. The cobbled roads and public parks are as well-kept as any other area. But the buildings are shabbier, built in an older style and somewhat in need of repair. It is a quiet and sombre neighborhood.

"Oh dear!" Santa exclaims.

He carefully examines the houses, and then peers past them to a park.

"Would it be alright if I rang a big bell?" he asks his companions. "There are a few people who will only accept their gifts if they can see everyone getting them, I think."

Kyaris shares a look with her coworkers.

"Let me check the neighborhood noise ordinances," she says, pulling them up on her phone.

"... yes, you should be fine," she says after a moment. "I'll file for a public performance permit, just in case."

Santa gives a determined nod, and strides to the park. He pulls a large silver hand-bell from somewhere, and begins ringing it over his head.

"Ho ho ho! Come one, come all, it's Christmas time!"

Several people in the buildings nearest the park twitch their curtains, looking to see what the commotion is.

A few, seeing the mediators, come out to see what's going on.

"... this is Santa," she finds herself explaining to someone she doesn't know. She can't know everyone in the city.

"He's a magical alien — but don't worry, that's why we're showing him around to avoid any misunderstandings. So far he seems very nice. He has some presents that he'd like to give to everyone."

Santa waves from where he's handing sticky-cakes to a group of children.

"So you think you could help me by letting them know what's going on?" he asks them.

The kids disperse into the buildings, rousing their friends and families.

And soon there's a growing crowd in the evening light, milling around in the park and talking in low voices.

"I brought a nice roast with me!" Santa calls out over the crowd, holding up a large box. "Does anyone have a table they could bring out so we can share it out?"

This is more familiar ground for some of the adults. Every holiday involves sharing food — and for those few of them who must occasionally choose between using their basic on food or on the things their children need, it's a welcome reprieve.

A handful of people sign to each other to coordinate, and then hurry away to go fetch Gozmezi's big folding table.

A child comes up and tugs on Santa's robes to get his attention.

"What about the people up on Flattish Hill? My friend Boneg lives up there," they say.

"Oh, I have a present for him too," Santa assures them. "Actually — do you think you could run up there and spread the word? Christmas is for everyone, and they should have the choice to come and join us. Here, this is for Boneg," he continues, handing the child a small silver package.

Kyaris helps get the table unfolded and steadied on the snow. Soon enough Santa's roast sits in the middle of it, but someone else has brought a batch of cookies, and someone else has brought a pot of soup.

Kyaris stands back and watches it all. There are people she recognizes, here in the crowd. Someone starts up a solstice song.

"It's magical, isn't it?" Santa comments, as he makes his way out of the crowd and over to her. "It's not just me — it's them. When people come together, everyone has a bit more."

He smiles at her.

"But I think it's time for us to move on. We have a lot of people to visit tonight."

"Will we have time to get to them all?" Kyaris questions. "How long is Christmas, anyway? Actually, what time is it?"

She feels like they've been at this for an hour or more, but the city still seems lit by the same indirect evening light as when she finished her shift earlier.

"Why, it's Christmas time!" Santa tells her. "And there is always time."

He looks off into the distance, over the clustered roofs of the city.

"No matter how many people there are, we always have time for each one."

He's silent for a moment, and Kyaris isn't sure what to say, but then he begins walking and she falls into step next to him.

The hours pass in a blur — or maybe they don't pass at all. But she walks with him, through the zig-zag streets of her city. Sometimes he takes the lead, with merry laughter and infectious cheer. Sometimes she takes the lead, with her trained calmness and knowledge of the community.

They've left her coworkers behind, but she's far past doubting what she's seeing. Whenever they cause another party, she calls dispatch to keep them informed.

But otherwise, the two of them walk the length and breadth of the city. And where they walk, they leave people joyful, thankful, and better off than they were before.

"There's just ..."

Kyaris yawns, a hand pressed to her mouth.

"There's just the folks up by the mill left, I think," she tells him.

The two walk by the riverbank, their breath forming puffs of fog in the air. At some point it has started snowing, big fat flakes drifting down to nest in their hair.

"Alright, then. Come on — one last neighborhood."