“Merry Christmas Illya. I hope you’re ‘specting Santa to bring you something really, really good.”
The Russian smiled ruefully at his drug addled partner, wishing fervently that all their problems could be solved by a white haired elf in a red suit.
“Merry Christmas my friend. For once I truly do have a list for the …”
Illya’s sentence was stopped short when a rumpled looking man appeared, climbed inside the small cubby where the two agents were being held, and began loosening their bonds.
“Hello Santa, I was juss talkin’ bout you.”
Mark Slate just smiled and continued working.
