Blitzø entered Stolas's mansion, brushing a layer of soot off his shoulders. "Alright, Feathers, I got your stupid starry tea blend or whatever. Hope you appreciate me braving Satan's version of Black Friday for this."

Stolas glided into the room, a delighted grin on his face, though his hands were suspiciously tucked behind his back. "Oh, Blitzy! You're such a dear. I knew you'd come through!"

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome," Blitzø muttered, tossing the small parcel onto the table. "So what's with the sneaky owl act? You plotting something?"

"Me? Plotting? Never!" Stolas said, clearly lying. "Though, if you must know, I may have been working on a little... project."

Blitzø raised a brow. "Uh-huh. What kinda 'project'? And should I be worried?"

Stolas produced a lumpy, colorful knit object from behind his back, his eyes gleaming with pride. "Tada! I made this for you, my darling Blitzy!"

Blitzø squinted at the item. It was a sweater—a hideously bright one, adorned with uneven stars, crooked reindeer, and what appeared to be a poorly stitched imp riding a flaming sleigh. "Uh... wow. That's... something," Blitzø said, unable to hide his grimace. "You made this yourself?"

"Yes! Isn't it wonderful?" Stolas beamed, holding it up to Blitzø. "I wanted to give you something heartfelt for the season, and what better way than to craft a sweater with my own two hands?"

Blitzø blinked, then smirked. "You seriously made this? Like, no magic shortcuts?"

"No shortcuts at all!" Stolas puffed up proudly. "I spent hours learning to knit, watching tutorials, and even pricked myself a few times! But it was all worth it, don't you think?"

Blitzø took the sweater, holding it up as if inspecting alien life. "It's, uh... definitely unique." He smirked mischievously. "But hey, who am I to turn down a gift? Lemme try this masterpiece on."

Stolas clapped his hands excitedly as Blitzø slipped the sweater over his head. It fit surprisingly well, though the bright colors and chaotic design made him look like a walking holiday explosion. "Well?" Stolas asked eagerly.

Blitzø struck a dramatic pose. "How do I look? Like the hottest imp on the block or what?"

Stolas giggled, his cheeks flushing. "Absolutely ravishing, my love! Oh, I knew it would suit you perfectly."

Blitzø snorted, adjusting the sweater. "Yeah, I bet everyone at the office will be so jealous. This thing screams class."

"Blitzy," Stolas said softly, stepping closer. "I just wanted you to have something special. Something that shows how much you mean to me."

For a moment, Blitzø faltered, the teasing grin fading as he met Stolas's earnest gaze. "Yeah, well..." He tugged at the sweater awkwardly. "Guess it's not the worst thing anyone's ever given me."

Stolas's smile widened. "So you like it?"

"I didn't say that," Blitzø muttered, though his tail wagged just a little.

The two stood in comfortable silence, the garish sweater now a shared joke—and maybe something more.

Blitzø strutted into the I.M.P. office the next morning, proudly sporting the monstrosity Stolas had knitted for him. He stopped in the doorway, struck a dramatic pose, and announced, "Feast your eyes, peasants, on the pinnacle of holiday fashion!"

Millie looked up from her desk, blinked twice, and then burst out laughing so hard she nearly fell out of her chair. "Oh, my Lucifer! Blitz, what the hell are you wearing?"

Moxxie, sitting nearby with a cup of coffee, lowered his mug slowly as he took in the sight. "Is that... supposed to be you? Riding a sleigh?" He squinted at the chaotic knit design. "And why is the sleigh on fire?"

"Because I'm hot, Mox," Blitzø said with a grin, spinning around to show off the back, which featured a wonky crescent moon and stars that vaguely resemble eyes. "Get it? On fire? Like my personality."

"I don't know what's worse—the colors or the craftsmanship," Moxxie muttered.

"Oh, don't be jealous just 'cause Stolas didn't make you a sweater," Blitzø teased, plopping himself down on the couch.

Loona walked in mid-conversation, her nose buried in her phone. She glanced up briefly, then stopped dead in her tracks. "What in the fresh Hell are you wearing?"

"It's called style, Loony," Blitzø shot back, gesturing dramatically to the sweater. "You wouldn't understand. It's a personalized gift."

Loona stared for a moment, then turned to Moxxie. "Did the owl make that?"

"Obviously," Moxxie replied dryly.

Loona let out a snort, trying—and failing—not to laugh. "Yeah, that tracks." She returned to her phone, muttering, "Looks like it was made by a blind, drunk granny."

"Hey!" Blitzø protested, though his grin didn't falter. "This is a work of art! You're all just too basic to appreciate it."

Millie wiped tears from her eyes, still laughing. "You know what? I think it's kinda cute! It's like Stolas put his whole heart into it."

"Or his lack of knitting skills," Moxxie quipped.

Blitzø crossed his arms, leaning back on the couch with a smug smirk. "Laugh it up, losers. But when this becomes a trend and I'm gracing the cover of Hell Vogue, don't come crying to me for fashion advice."

"Don't worry," Loona said flatly. "I'd rather burn my wardrobe."

Despite the jokes, Blitzø couldn't help but feel a tiny flicker of warmth as he adjusted the sweater. Sure, it was hideous, but Stolas had made it just for him. And as much as he hated to admit it, that meant something. The door to the office slammed open with a loud BANG, startling everyone inside. In strutted Fizzarolli, his lanky frame framed dramatically in the doorway as he tossed confetti into the air. "Surprise! Your favorite jester is gracing you all with his presence!"

Blitzø groaned, slumping into the couch. "Oh, great. Just what I needed to top off my morning: a clown infestation."

Fizzarolli gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. "Oh, Blitz, don't be like that! I came all the way here just to visit my old buddy, and this is the thanks I get?"

"What are you doing here Fizz?" Blitzø shot back, glaring at him.

"I came to visit ya," Fizzarolli said with a smirk, spinning his robotic arms in a lazy circle. "But now I'm more interested in that! What in Hell are you wearing?"

Blitzø leaned back, spreading his arms to show off the sweater. "This, my jealous friend, is what real style looks like. Bet your flimsy little clown brain can't even process how fabulous it is."

Fizzarolli leaned in close, inspecting the sweater with an exaggerated squint. "Fabulous? This thing looks like a glitter bomb sneezed on by a yarn factory." He cackled, leaning on Blitzø for support. "Oh, Stolas made this, didn't he? That's the only explanation for why it's so... lovingly atrocious."

Millie snorted, trying to hold back her laughter. "He's not wrong, Blitz!"

"Shut up, Millie!" Blitzø snapped, pulling his sweater tighter around him. "You all just don't appreciate the effort it took to make this."

Fizzarolli straightened up, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. "Oh, I appreciate the effort, buddy. I do. But that doesn't mean I'm not gonna roast you for it." He struck a mockingly dramatic pose, one hand on his hip. "Ooooh, look at me! I'm Blitzø, Hell's hottest imp, wearing Hell's ugliest sweater! Aren't I just a fashion icon?"

Blitzø rolled his eyes, a mischievous grin forming. "Y'know, Fizz, maybe you should get Asmodeus to ask Stolas to knit you one. I'm sure he'd love to make you a little something. Maybe one with hearts and googly eyes all over it. Real romantic-like."

Fizzarolli froze for a moment, his smirk faltering. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I would," Blitzø shot back, crossing his arms smugly. "Think about it: you, the big-shot jester, prancing around in a handmade love sweater. Bet Ozzie would eat it up."

The office burst into laughter as Fizzarolli sputtered, trying to come up with a comeback. "Y-yeah? Well, at least I wouldn't look like a walking Christmas disaster!"

"Call it whatever you want," Blitzø said, leaning back and adjusting the sweater proudly. "But at least mine's one-of-a-kind. You? You'd probably get matching socks."

Fizzarolli groaned, throwing his arms in the air. "You're impossible, Blitz! But fine, enjoy your tacky gift. Just don't blame me when even your hell hound daughter refuses to be seen with you."

"Too late," Loona muttered, not looking up from her phone.

Fizzarolli snorted, giving Blitzø one last exaggerated look of disapproval before striding toward the door. "Well, this has been... hilarious. But I've got better places to be. Try not to blind anyone with that thing, Blitz!"

Blitzø waved lazily. "See ya, Fizzy. Don't forget to order your sweater!"