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'Tis the season, or 'tis nearly the season, or, perhaps more to the point, Christmas music has begun to play in the department stores. In commemoration of this, one Isaac Beelzebub Hades, a scarf still loosely around his neck, has found himself a table in the kitchen, a pair of child-sized scissors, and a stack of white paper, and he is busying himself carefully cutting snowflakes out of the folded paper.

At one elbow is a mug of hot tea (it's fueling him for this grueling task); at the other elbow is a small, green-eyed calico kitten draped over his arm and watching the proceedings with uniquely feline intensity.

The half-angel's starting to run out of creative ways to cut geometrical shapes out of paper, and he would really appreciate company.

*and look, he's dead, in a vaguely-described but presumably psychotic and murderous fashion -- there is likely quite a bit of blood and the only expression that manages to have stayed on his face is one of profound surprise*

*ah, Cat-thing, there is thy sting*