“But what exactly is the plot?” asked Grady Stone, a puzzled expression on his face. “It’s just some old man planning on visiting the local neighbourhood, bringing gifts, with elves running around smiling at him. Is it an urban fantasy, one of those retrospective things that Gerry gets so wistful about? Or some kind of Public Service broadcast about the danger of strangers?”
Jack Bradford rolled his eyes. After a day helping set up the production facilities, he and Grady were sitting on his bunk in their shared trailer, examining their copy of the new script. “Red suit, Grady. White beard. Soot on his nose. Ring any bells?”
Grady’s eyes lit up, and he slid a hand up under Jack’s T-shirt. “Like that collar I got you? The one with the sleigh bells? I was hoping you’d want to try that again
