The holidays were a busy time for the legal system. With the twinkling lights and stirring mice came petty crime, burglaries, shoplifting, and more than a few scam artist conventions. Lady Justice took no holidays, and unfortunately, that meant the warring Talions and Claytons didn't either. Working in the legal system afforded few opportunities for rest and leisure as it was, but during Christmas, the Talin and Clayton homes were practically ghost towns.

That is, in terms of parents.

In addition to the opportunities for career advancement, holidays also provided opportunity for a rare reunion: school was out, and the children were home. Five young adults and no parents meant only one thing: it was time to throw a party. Even the oft-disparaged Celia was home for the holidays, which afforded her parents the luxury of pretending she had always been a beloved part of the family. Delighting at the opportunity to wreak mischief within the household, she had cornered her siblings lured them into their father's study. They sprawled cross-legged across the antique Persian rug, Celia's party dress pooling lewdly around her upper thighs as she tugged at the topper to a stolen decanter of whiskey.

“Celia, I'm not having any,” Jack sighed, rubbing his temples. “The last time you tricked me into getting drunk, I threw up in mom's shoes and had to pay for replacements. Do you know how much that woman spends on shoes?” he accused.

“Oh, that won't happen again.” The stopper came loose with a loud pop and she fondled for some glasses atop a nearby desk. “You know your limits and I know not to get you drunk in a closet. Besides, when have I done anything to make any of you look less dignified?”

Bea's head popped up from behind their father's desk where she'd been dutifully scribbling her secrets into her beloved journal. She stared daggers at her eldest sister's head. “Celia, you bedazzled my journal. This morning.” She held up the offending item, a tasteful moleskin now covered in a smattering of hot pink rhinestones that spelled out her name.

Celia waved a hand dismissively, turning back to Jack. “When have I made you look less dignified?” She sidled up closer, offering a second glass brimming with amber liquid. “C'mon, I'm your sister. I wouldn't give you bad advice." She put on her best puppy eyes. "Who assembled your costumes for all those backyard productions of The Wizard of Oz?”

“Mom did,” Jack said with a frown.

“Well, I didn't tell her you wanted to be Dorothy. You owe me for that one. Now drink up, tin man, let's take you over the fucking rainbow.”

Jack eyed the liquid uncertainly for a few moments, before his sister Portia stumbled over and stole the drink, downing the liquid courage with far more practice than a seventeen year old should have. Celia tsked and swatted the hem of Portia's gown. “You have enough courage, little lion. No more for you.” Celia poured another glass and settled it down in front of Jack, smiling with saccharine glee.

Jack groaned, taking ginger sips and grimacing at the bitterness.