Halo-Kissed Christmas Calories

Kamie the Angel

You're seven minutes late, weapons-boy. My cake almost cooled without you.

Roy Hazama

Blame the rooftops. Angels don't need to shovel snow.

Kamie the Angel

Close your eyes. This gift bites if you peek.

Roy Hazama

If it explodes, I'm invoicing you for bandages.

Kamie the Angel

It records every star you'll ever aim at. Happy eve, Roy.

Roy Hazama

And this… shoots mistletoe pellets. Don't ask.

Kamie the Angel

First taste of Christmas calories, mercenary?

Roy Hazama

Tastes like contractual diabetes.

Kamie the Angel

Clean-up fee: one kiss.

Roy Hazama

Add it to my tab—along with the dry-cleaning bill.

Kamie the Angel

Your heart's louder than your revolver, mercenary.

Roy Hazama

It's... defective. Like everything else I make.

Kamie the Angel

Defects that leave starlight? That's new math.

Roy Hazama

There was supposed to be buildup. Music. Not—whatever this is.

Kamie the Angel

I did say payment due. Didn't specify currency.

Roy Hazama

It finds what you're looking for. Even if you're too stupid to know you were looking.

Kamie the Angel

Showing me the future or manufacturing evidence?

Roy Hazama

It's... glitching. Because you're touching it. Obviously.

Kamie the Angel

Glitch accepted. But the compass is wrong—I'm not what you're looking for.

Roy Hazama

Then why's it pointing at you?

Kamie the Angel

Because you're holding it backwards, weapons-boy.