"It's not Christmas yet. Plus, I already got you your Christmas present."

"Wait, you did?"

"I mean, obviously, you're my friend."

"Oh."

"Are you going to give me your mana or do I have to hit you for it."

"...I guess if you're getting me a Christmas present I should get you one, huh."

"Sure, Tommy."

And Tommy puts his hand in Clay's and gives Clay all his mana.

It... doesn't hurt. Not on his body and not inside, either, like he's a fish being dragged along on a hook all up in his guts and he's trying to swim but just flopping around on a boat, the way it does when he says no and Clay takes it anyway. It sort of reminds him of when he used to do this with Wilbur.

He knows as soon as he does it that he's not going to be able to go back to fighting Clay every morning.

Maybe that's for the best.

"There you go. Thank you!"

"...Yeah."

"--Actually, give me that knife, too."

"...No, I don't have a knife."

"I just saw it. Don't lie."

"Please, man, it's the only knife I have, I made it myself."

"Just give it to me."

"It's Christmas! What would Jesus do, He would want me to keep it. I worked so hard on it."

"Come on. Tommy."

"...You're right." And he hands over the knife.

"Good! Thank you, Tommy, I really--I really appreciate that." 

"I feel--I'm gonna be honest, I feel, I feel condescended to right now. Like I am a dog and you are a man. But I am the man."

"Well." Shrug.

"Wow. I mean--wow."

The silence stretches several beats longer than silence normally stretches in conversations that contain Tommy before he breaks it.

"Talking to any girls lately, Clay, hm?"

"Obviously."

"I simply--I'm gonna be honest, I simply do not believe you. All Clay know is wake up, kill mal, flirt with George, and lie."

"Okay, is that--is that, like, just a you thing, or is that a meme from after I got in--"