[Hours later, the festivities are winding down and the streetlights are lit, the final flakes of snow glittering their soundless way to the covered ground.]
[Yet another glow is present at the beach, where Lacus has set up a roaring fire in one of the huts. The cloth shades over the windows are pulled, but for the main doorway. Just outside the door, stuck upright in the snow-covered sand, is a fishing pole. It's wooden and not at all modern, but Lacus has made some ofher own modifications which will make it easy to use with a smooth casting, a good strong line, and a reel and handle that can work with any size catch.]
[Dangling from the hook is a bit of paper on which she's written quid pro quo. Expires at daypost.]