Rody had finally recovered. He got a stable job, and finally cleaned himself up. Finally let go of the man. That horrible, awful man, his only consolation being that he’d burned in that fire.

Of course, the lack of an ear was unfortunate, but he always told people it was from an accident at one of his old jobs. Which wasn’t entirely false.

It was almost Christmas, which meant he had off. He was at home, singing Christmas music, baking cookies badly, when there was a knock at his door. He turned, and walked up to the door.

Outside was a cleanly dressed man, in a black sweater, blue jeans, and black shoes. He had a familiarly pale pallor that made his skin crawl, but it wasn’t the same tone, neck and probably all up his arms was halfway healed burn scars. His head was bowed, holding a small bouquet of poinsettias.

“Rody.” He muttered, “Merry Christmas.”