Dirty Christmas
Her voice was soft, laced with the fatigue of long hours, but her hazel eyes held a spark, loneliness, maybe, or the unspoken crush she'd harbored since her teens, watching him command the elves with quiet strength.
Behind him slunk in Jingle, his head elf, 28 and sharp-featured with pointed ears twitching under his red cap. Lean and wiry from scampering across rooftops, Jingle's green eyes locked on Dory with a hunger he'd hidden for months. He was no innocent sprite; years of pranks and late-night fixes had toughened him, but Dory's laugh during shifts softened him, made him dream of more than toys.
"Let us help," Jingle said, stepping closer, his voice a playful lilt edged with need. He g