Santa watched Jack take careful steps towards the desk in front of him. Manifesting a chair, in true Frost fashion, he took a seat directly in front of the man in red.  


  "Let us place your luck, shall we? For your largest problem was given flesh. A name. Gifts by your own hand but made material long before. Shwan, yes? Unless, perhaps, you have forgotten this named evil. Perhaps, you are too close to the epicenter of your own sorrows to see the issue laid bare anymore." 


  Nick listened. As was his way. Patience was a virtue that always paid off in his life.  


  "If, let us say, a solution was available, that would remove this cancer from the body of your existence, would you take it? Consider it? Hear a man explain the mystery of its origin to you, so you could escape an otherwise inescapable fate?" Jack whispered across the table.  


  Santa met his tone, "Go on." 


  "I've kept my knowledge of your secret to myself, lest it one day be used against me. You must forgive me, but I have stumbled across a morsel that is too delectable to consume alone." Jack's voice began to take on an almost melodic cadence. 


  Santa rose to his feet, to tower over Jack. As water recedes before a tsunami, Nick delivered his last patient ultimatum. 


  "Enough with the riddles and soliloquies, Frost. Speak plainly, or in the plains you will lie this night." 


  As icicles cut, did the jagged features of Frost tear away into his hallmark smile. Warm, with a frigid intent. 


  "Let us end the charade of Shwan." He replied coolly.