The moment they vanished down the hall, the light in the main room lost some of its warmth. The Christmas tree shuddered. Angela's smile flattened. The angel shot off apple green sparks, fluttered his wings, and slid down a succession of branches until he was eye-level with Angela. He used the last branch as a springboard and did a quadruple twist through the air to land on the counter in front of her.
"Maurice."
"Angela."
He gestured at his angel outfit. "Mercy? Haven't I been a good boy most of
the day?"
"Most of it."
Her lips twitched as she fought a smile.
His gold and white
robes changed to the camouflage clothes he had stolen from G.I. Joe. Maurice
sighed in relief, then glanced sideways at her.
"You know what
I'm like. You read that report Asmondius sent you. You asked for it when you
sentenced me to the top of the tree in that ridiculous get-up." He crossed
his arms and returned her glare for five seconds. Then they both grinned. "Come
on, Angie-baby. If I have to help Humans, I can have a little fun, can't
I?"
"A 'little fun'
is what got you sent here." She stepped back and looked him over.
"People see more at Divine's."
"Uh, duh,"
Lanie Zephyr said, wheeling into the room. "First winkies, now …
mini-Legolas?"
"Hey,
babe." Maurice saluted, bending over far enough to make himself turn a
somersault in mid-air. "Thought I saw you seeing me."
"Nice to know
everything we went through this summer hasn't driven me bonkers just yet."
"Lanie, could
you let Maurice and me deal with some business?" Angela said, never taking
her gaze off Maurice.
"Hey, sure. Just
wanted to make sure I wasn't …" She twirled her forefinger by her right
temple. "I gotta run, committee meeting. You're not into Star Trek, are
you, Maurice?"
"Please."
Angela rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched, fighting a smile. "That is
the last thing we need. Most of the people who might be able to hear or even
see Maurice belong to your club. It might not be wise. Not yet, at the start of
his exile."
"Exile?"
Lanie looked like she was going to ask more questions. She took a deep breath,
shook her head, and turned to head out of the room. "They'd be less likely
to notice at our Christmas party. Someone's always trying to spike the fake Romulan
ale …"
"Lanie, go!"
She flashed the Vulcan salute and her wheelchair sped down the hallway and out of sight. Without touching the wheels.
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