“But then, how do we have stories of the Loch Ness monster and stuff if you’re staying hidden?”

Ross moves from scoff to full-on raspberry blowing. “Oh, come on. It’s definitely not because humans are experts at seeing what’s right under their noses. We pop out from time to time so that when one of you raves about having seen a giant fire-breathing lizard with wings or some half human, half fish”—they point at themself—“the rest of you don’t believe them. It’s our way to ensure that you’ll never ever find us.”

“But what about Santa?”

“He’s real all right,” Ross says, not a hint of joking in their expression. “But he stopped delivering presents to humans decades ago. People just blew him off, so he said screw it and lets the elves take the reindeer out every year to gorge themselves on cookies.”

I walk in stunned silence. I mean, what are you supposed to say when someone tells you Santa is just a cynical recluse holed up in the North Pole but sugar-addicted elves keep up the ruse of Christmas cheer?

“You look like the mind-blown emoji, IRL,” Ross says.

Their acronym usage is enough to pull me out of my shock. “Look at you with the internet lingo. But nobody says IRL . . . IRL.”

“Whatever,” Ross says, rolling their eyes again.

We round the corner onto the Third Street Promenade, which has the nighttime hustle of Montana Avenue only times about a hundred. Restaurants with their outdoor patios line the entire pedestrian street. The Apple Store, Urban Outfitters, Tiffany’s, you name it, all have a storefront with electric signs blaring their latest sales. Ross is wide-eyed, a neon glow reflected as they take it all in. They’re so caught up in it all that it’s perfect for The Tourist. I record a bit of their reaction, but I don’t think they notice.

“It looks so different at night,” Ross mumbles. A smile slowly creeps up their lips as they look at the crammed patio of an Italian restaurant. Tables are packed; people are talking and laughing and clinking champagne flutes together. “It feels like community. Finally. I was convinced none of you had a soul. Present company excluded.”