Michael awoke to the best smell in the world. Sizzling bacon. He had fallen asleep cuddled up with Otso on the couch, a situation that would normally have his nearly fifty year old body groaning in agony from sleeping in a weird position, but he felt fine, fantastic even. He tossed back the blanket to assess the other sort of damage from last night. From the waist down he was pretty much a wolf now, even the hair on his chest looked thicker, and the spare tire around his waist was just not there. He didn't have a six pack, but a nice flat stomach was something he was grateful for.
He padded into the kitchen, getting used to the new gait and smiled when he saw Otso behind the stove, cooking away. Not just bacon, but eggs and a pile of toast to go with it. He came up behind the wolf, wrapping his arms around him and tilting his head up to nibble on an ear, something he discovered made Otso melt. "What time is it anyway? I can never tell." He asked after the nibble.
"Around nine at night. I get ravenous after sex and had a craving for breakfast." Otso explained with a shrug. "Have a good nap?" He asked, as he flipped over an egg.
"Better than I have in a long time. I usually wake up with a sore back." Michael noted, releasing the wolf so he could cook but not moving too far away.
"Not surprising your body is rejuvenating. You might be middle aged for a human, but not one of us." Otso grinned as he slid some bacon out of a pan onto a cooling rack.
"Hmm?" Michael could only manage a noise as he was biting into a piece of toast.
"You'll probably end up closer to a human in his early to mid thirties." Otso explained as he start moving more food from cooking vessels to plates. "Grab the coffee please." He said, with a motion to the pot. "We're a slow breeding lot, our tribes, so we make up for it with longer life spans. Kind of like.. tortoises. It's fairly common to live to your one hundred thirtieth year depending on your tribe. We don't even really consider anyone old until they're pushing a century. The head of the reindeer neuvesto is one hundred forty six if I recall correctly."
Michael slowed his chewing on the toast as he stared at Otso, coffee pot in hand. Otso just took the pot from him, licked him on the cheek and poured them coffee. "Regardless. You keep cooking for me like this I'll die from a coronary well before then."
Otso just grinned, making Michael arch an eyebrow. "Increased calorie consumption. Much of it from having to keep ourselves warm. Certainly you noticed we're a little, well, hot-blooded up here." Otso seemed to relish sharing medical knowledge as he dished out the food. "Higher body temperatures mean more calories burned, means more food needed. Also a reason for small populations, keeps resources abundant, and why we don't like clothes. Fur regulates our body heat naturally by fluffing or laying flat, clothes just trap it in, turning into little saunas. We tend to roast in clothing after a while. Put on pants, you'll see what I mean." Otso shrugged. "Or don't, I like you better without them on."
"Then magic burns calories as well, especially physical magic like flying. Keeping human shape too, ever know that one guy that eats everything and never gains weight? Often one of us in disguise, not always, but sometimes. The reindeer actually make several stops at the other sanctuaries on Christmas to chow down real quick." Otso spread a thick layer of some dark red jam on a piece of toast and handed it over to Michael. He took a bite and nodded approvingly, it had a slight cranberry taste, less sour a little sweeter. "Lingonberry."
"Other sanctuaries?" Michael found himself asking. Feeling a little quilt he was just letting Otso do all the talking as he ate, but he was ravenous. Probably from changing like the doctor had explained.
"We're just one refuge. There's groups of tribes dotted all over the world. We have a few visitors or transplants on occasion, but each one has it's own unique blend of creatures. Each continent has at least one. Cascadia in North America hides one, that's where the sasquatch are if you're curious. Another in the Amazon, one in the Australian outback, the Sahara, the Himalayas, even a chain of islands in the Ionian, the satyrs are lovely people." Otso grinned at the expression on Michael's face.
"Oh come now. You didn't think this was the only place in the whole world we were holed up. We stay out of the way of humans, usually with magic wards, and none of us are populous. Actually the Arctic sanctuary is probably the largest, but we're around. We have lost a few to encroachment the last few centuries, but, we're doing what we can. This whole resort thing is just one idea."
"I guess that makes sense." Michael bit into a crispy piece of bacon as there was a knock on the door. "I'll get it, you eat." He motioned to the doctor. Striding to the front door he yanked it open and got a blast of cold air right in the face and chest. Right. He was still naked.
The elf looking up at him didn't seem bothered at all though, just holding out an envelope with his name on it in a flowing script. "Mail for Michael Laine."
"Thank you." He said, taking the letter. The elf nodded, and headed on his way with a pouch filled with more letters under his arm. Michael shut the door before his nipples froze off, and turned back to the kitchen. "Letter for me?" He said curiously.
Otso craned his neck to look at the envelope. "That's from the workshop. Santa's handwriting. He would know where you are."
"That's unsettling." Michael muttered as he popped the envelope open, pulling out a thick piece of ivory colored paper covered in fine handwriting with black ink that somehow had a golden sheen to it. The smell of peppermint and pine wafted in the air from it.
"You get used to it." Otso said with a shrug. "He's tracked me down more than once in an emergency." Michael began reading, his eyebrows lifting as he went on. "You look surprised."
"Listen to this." He scanned through the letter a little. "More condolences for Eric, but then, here.. I want to discuss something with you. With the resort and Village becoming more public facing I find myself in need of a skilled Public Relations specialist with experience in the human world. I can't keep relying on the Resort's team, as I do not want the Village too tied up in their plans. I've heard you might be looking to make a change and would love to talk to you over a mug of hot chocolate, but this time of year provides me with no free time. However, if you want it, I'd be happy to bring you aboard in the new year. Signed, Santa."
Michael held out the letter for Otso to read, which he did. "My word. He always does have the finest letterhead." The doctor even sniffed the paper. "Remind me to ask him who does his stationary the next time I see him."
"Otso.." Michael said, trying to get him back on point. The wolf really did like the finer things.
"Yes, yes. It's a job offer. Isn't that part of your job in the human world? Public relations?" He handed the letter back. "And it's in his usual, I'm technically offering but I'm just going to act like you've already accepted because I'm Santa and who says no to Santa. I got a similar letter. It's framed in my office. The real question is what are you going to do?"
"Nothing until I talk to Eric." Michael said, folding the letter and putting it back in it's envelope. "I need to know he wants me in his life before I decide to put myself in it."
Otso reached out and took Michael's hand in his, "What if I want you in my life?" And for once Michael saw a look of genuine loneliness on Otso's face, and it damn near broke his heart.