Someone come take this yapping monstrosity from my chambers before I do something I will regret later, and don't let me look at her for another few days.

Theatre Troupe: Double rehearsals tonight. After the first hour expect to rehearse without your copies in hand. Your collective inability to grasp such a simplistic text is nothing short of astounding, and I'm tired of holding your hands. It's laziness, is what it is, and I'll break you of it.

(ooc: Both Pavi and the Abbe have disappeared. The Marquis is two ticks from having a meltdown of Gene Wilder-esque proportions. Feel free to fan the flames.)

Pere Noel,

Compelled to write to you though I very well may be, I realize you are the only source most of us have for these silly traditions of gift exchange -- and while I never professed any love of Christianity, I have never been averse to the familial aspects of the season when it has been my opportunity to enjoy them. For this reason I am resisting this a good deal less than I did last year. I am terrible at choosing gifts, however, so I will do my best.

( If it's behind the cut it's not visible to the public. The rest is, though )

Finally -- for myself. I should like a dog. I know not what specific breed you should bring, but it must be an active sort, but also very loyal, intelligent, and most importantly protective.

I trust you to handle things.

-M. de Sade

(ooc: Simm!Master's gift? A beard trimmer. Haha, Marquis. The breed of dog he'll wind up with: A Groenendael.)