Event Finished The Opposite of Twins

When Havoc had first spotted his secret santa assignment, he'd been under the assumption that someone was playing a practical joke on him. Or, if not that, that someone had made a mistake.

After all, what were the odds that James would be assigned with James? Not even James something. His partner was just James, no last name.

Havoc supposed it was a mercy he didn't go by his first name.

The other-James had quite the list of recommendations, but all of them were well outside of Havoc's field of expertise. He knew nothing about magic except what he'd learned in class--not all that much--and next to nothing about novels. He'd gone out of his way to find a bookstore that specialized in magic, but in the end he'd found himself entirely out of depth. He couldn't tell the real magic books from the fictional magic books, and he had no way of knowing if what he was buying was of decent quality, let alone if it was legitimate.

A part of him considered going to Professor Creighton, but it seemed like an unnecessary waste of time when he could simply go with the alternative suggestion.

Horror books were much easier to handle.

James waited in the courtyard by one of the Christmas trees for his secret santa to arrive, a bag tucked under his shoulder. He hadn't bothered to wrap them, but the man who had sold him the books had thrown in some tissue paper, so he supposed it probably counted as a gift bag, right?

Havoc had never been the kind of person who was really bothered by things. He had been shot at and stabbed, and he didn't really see the existence of things like monsters to be any more alarming than that. If they decided to murder him, that was different, but he didn't see the point in getting worked up over what would probably be nothing.

What surprised him more was the fact that Other-James was a fair bit younger then he'd expected. He'd assumed sixteen or seventeen, and he looked a few years younger than that.

Ah well, he'd sure a fourteen year old had seen worse.

"And you must also be James," Havoc said. "But calling me Havoc would probably be easier, I go by my surname."

Without any sort of further prompting, Havoc held out his shopping bag of gifts. Inside, James would find a whole stack of horror novels in varying levels of why are you giving this to a fourteen year old, although at least a few would be acceptable. He hadn't quite paid attention to the prompt, and was a bit too unused to being around kids to judge if a story about a crazed fan abducting and mutilating her favorite author was child-friendly.

"For you."