This prompt comes from Tyronne with 'festive camouflage', and brings us back to a previous vignette where a police officer is trying to adapt to a most adaptable new acquaintance. Enjoy!
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Deck the Halls:
“Oh, wow,” Camilla said as she stood in front of the Christmas tree in Isaac’s apartment. “That’s beautiful.”
And so it was. From floor to ceiling it stretched, the star on top just about scraping the stucco pattern above. It was decked in garlands and ornaments, a theme of silver and white. It didn’t have any lights on it, but the glow from the apartment’s own illumination made it glisten like snow on a mountaintop. It was probably the nicest tree he’d ever seen. There was just one problem with it, though. He hadn’t bought it. He hadn’t set it up, and the when he’d walked out the doors this evening, it hadn’t been there.
“Yeah,” he admitted, squeezing his date around her shoulders, though his lips thinned as he glared at the tree. “It is.”
“Where’s the little girls’ room?” the Hispanic woman in the tight red dress asked with a giggle. “I need to go freshen up.”
“Down the hall, second door on the right.”
She slipped out of his arm with a little smile and tapped down the hallway on bare feet, her high-heels having been left at the door. Once the bathroom door closed behind her, Isaac turned to face the tree. “All right,” he demanded. “What is this?”
Several glass ornaments shifted into eyes, like something inside them rolled over. They all focused on him. What do you mean?
“I mean, this. Why are you a tree?” He didn’t ask why the mimic was in his apartment. That was a battle he’d long since lost.
You told me you’d never had a Christmas without a tree before, she told him, and I overheard you saying you wouldn’t have time to get one this year. I wanted you to have one.
He blinked. “That’s... actually nice. Wait.” his brow furrowed. “Is this your version of an apology?”
A pause. Maybe.
“I see. And is there anything in particular you’d like to apologize for? There’s a whole lot of entries on the naughty list. Like starting a gang war, eating a key witness, scaring the shit out of my old partner?”
Another pause. Maybe.
Isaac sighed. He supposed that was good enough. Narcissists and mimics had one thing in common; they never apologized for specific things. The former thought doing so was an admission that they’d done something wrong. ‘I’m sorry you feel that way’ and all that. The latter... well, if Allie was any indication, then mimics just didn’t think they’d done anything wrong at all.
By human standards, mimics were psychopathic serial killers utterly devoid of empathy. Everything they did was in furtherance of their predatory instincts. Even language was just a means to lure prey to them. By all rights, Allie should have disembowelled and devoured him the instant that she knew that he’d figured out what she was, but instead she’d stuck to him like glue. Something as simple as pretending to be a Christmas tree to make him feel better was a canyon-sized leap for her.
“This doesn’t make up for what you’ve done,” he told her. “But... in the spirit of the season and in the effort you’ve gone to, I appreciate it.”
Thank you.
“Just don’t freak Camilla out, okay? This is her first time staying over. I like her, and I’d like her to come back.”
So I can’t eat her?
“No.”
The tree’s branches rustled with a silent sigh. Everyone gets to have a nice Christmas but me...
“I tell you what,” Isaac promised. “You behave while she’s here and I promise you a nice juicy holiday turkey and a ham.”
The ornament eyes stared at him for a moment longer, then rolled back into their former appearance. The tree was once again, a tree. Or at least indistinguishable from one until Allie decided to change that.
“Did you say something?” Camilla asked, poking her head around the corner. “I heard you talking.”
“Just mumbling to myself,” Isaac told her. “Lot of things to think about. Mostly work.”
Camilla tsk’d. “None of that,” she said, stroking the side of his head. “Not while I’m here. Only good things, si?”
Isaac smiled, turning to put his arms back around his girlfriend. “Sure,” he promised in front of the Christmas tree that wasn’t a tree. “Only good things.”