MERRY CHRISTMAS, TIAGO~ 

status: closed for @tiagonussbaum​ location: the houseboat  date: dec. 22nd, mid-evening

There were few things in the world, both above and below the surface of the water, that Ridley felt she could truly pride herself on - well, that was a lie. She found herself of being within the scope of a great many talents; but a master of none. None, perhaps, save for one - she was excellent with a cellphone. At this point, she could basically be part-time FBI. Internet stalking had come to fingers quicker than any other mundane human task, so when it was a foreign name she’d never heard of drawn from the Santa hat and given to her for secret santa, Ridley knew what to do. 

Google was her best friend in every situation, and the mystery of one Tiago Nussbaum was no match for it’s limits. Within mere moments, Ridley was on his author page, making mental notes of the importance of rye bagels, and his long lost of achievements. From there, it turned to looking at buying guides for keywords like best gifts for famous writer and what to buy an author, until eventually, painstakingly, the choices had been narrowed down. For someone experiencing her first ever Christmas, Ridley saved no effort in the pursuit for a winner gift - was it born of the natural desire to find success, in the small ways she could, or more to impress not only Victoria Wolfgang, but this presumably notable figure in Port Vale. 

How fortunate, this Tiago, Ridley found herself musing as she made the final preparations for her scheme a bit too grand for something as small-scale as a secret Santa community game. With Weldon’s help, and the promise of returning the favor, Ridley had secured a fancy-seeming messenger bag for laptops. Sure, the wrong name was embroidered on it, but the siren simply assumed that was a brand name or something, like maybe a Chad Whitley was a fancy indie designer that someone of Tiago’s status, surely, would be impressed to own. Beyond that, a hat she had deemed sleek and looking just as an author should. And, if all else failed, a gift card for the local breakfast bakery on the corner, just down from the city centre - rye bagels, they did not have, but regular ones would hopefully suffice. 

Armed with these gifts, and a card, penned in her own, childish script, it would read; 

I’ve always said, you can’t do your best if you don’t feel (or look) your best. 

What is a writer without the right props? Or snacks!

Merry Christmas, from a hopeful new friend

- Ridley Alara 

The siren had done well in her research, asking a couple of the other residents of Port Vale she had deemed ‘important’, and eventually had managed to bring her cyber-stalking talent to the real world, with little regard to how weird that should be for any totally average human. The siren blundered on, the Christmas bag swinging over her wrist oversized and dusting her path with gold and silver glitter. Aside from the picture of himself on the author’s website, Ridley was flying blind; but her assessment of him was the same she’d had while reading his legacy- man, he’s intense. 

Boldly, likely with more confidence than she should have, Ridley made her way to the man seated at the bar and gently tapped his shoulder, a smile brightly worn on her features and the a light dusting of snow still coating the top of her head. “Um, so, hi,” Ridley began, unable to help a quick glance down at her hand where she’d written his name - still forever fussing over how to properly say it. “Tie-Tiago? Right? Hi, I’m Ridley, and guess what! I’m your Secret Santa. Surprise!” With that, she thrust the gift bag forward, realizing her plan had literally no advancement past this; and, belatedly, she was struck with the first of the worry of it’s kind - what if he hated it?