Alice: Why did you put it there? What if I ignored it? Santa: But you didn’t. You needed something to get back in the game. You weren’t gonna pass on a mystery you thought your guy was working on. I’m very sorry for your loss. Alice: It really sucks. Santa: Well, now you know. That page and wherever that quest took you it wasn’t his story; it was yours Alice. For what it’s worth, I think he’d been really proud of you, the way you keep on fighting. I told you. I told you were good. Alice: I still don’t know if that’s true. Santa: Hey, this is how it works: You do your best, you fuck up, you get hurt, people die. Except for the odd microplane, jack shit gets wrapped up in a bow. Alice: You know you’re a real ray of sunshine Santa. Santa: Ho ho ho.
Santa: Oh hey, Alice. Alice: Did I sleep until December? Santa: I couldn’t resist giving out a few more gifts while I’m here. Given your quest-heavy lifestyle, there’s no guarantee any of you will live to see Christmas. Sit, have a cookie.