There were very few things that Booker Faust did not enjoy... Okay, so maybe that was a lie. There were a lot of things that Booker Faust did not enjoy, but none so as much as Christmas. It wasn't that he was a Scrooge or anything, in fact he secretly really enjoyed giving to charities, and most years he appeared at a local orphanage with gifts, but Booker really loathed Christmas at the 'Silver Spoon Table.' Every year it was like a contest to see which family could buy their kids the coolest, most expensive toys when Booker was growing up. And sure, it was nice for awhile. Until Booker was old enough to realize that his parent's weren't giving him things out of the kindness in their heart. It was to show off to the other families how wealthy they were. It made him notice how a lot of other kids were without, and it made Booker loathe what the giving time of year had become. A materialistic twist on what was once a genuinely great thing.

Even so, here he was, presents in tow, on his way to his sister's apartment. Sparrow Faust had a completely different view to Christmas than Booker did. She absolutely loved it. Every year Sparrow went all out for Christmas, and (mostly) every year Booker denied her invitations. This year was different. Booker couldn't quite peg the feeling, but it was so... Lonely. Ever since Tori went back to her exciting lifestyle in Hawaii, Booker was reminded just how quiet things were. Since he was about seventeen Booker had been diagnosed with depression. It was something he learned to live with, and most days were pretty good with the help of anti-depressants. He felt pretty normal. But sometimes the fog creeps back up into his head, and the only one who could get him out of that kind of funk was his crazy twin sister.

Booker had reached Sparrow's apartment complex. He entered the elevator and stuck in the key that allowed him access to the penthouse where Sparrow resided. It was good to know that the place had good protection like this. Booker wouldn't ever admit it, but he worried for his sister sometimes. The kinds of people she hung out with weren't exactly... Vanilla. They were a bit rough around the edges, it seemed, and he worried that she might bring too much of that home with her sometimes. A silly notion, but still he worried.

The elevator dinged as Booker reached the penthouse. He let himself in, thinking that Sparrow might still be sleeping. It was rather early, and she was kind of a night owl.

"Sparrow? Are you awake?" He called out as he began unpacking his briefcase of shrink-charmed gifts. Booker checked his watch to make sure it wasn't too early. 8:07. It was going to be a long Christmas day.