This was way too early in the morning to be at the office during the offseason. Amy was in no mood for nonsense; she was in the mood for espresso, preferably delivered via direct IV drip. Of course Carol would make herself scarce during the holidays, leaving Amy in charge of what was left of the Liberty operation during the winter. Forty-seven things going on at once, and this was the time Carol decided she hadn't been seeing enough of the missus. Megan and the interns attempted to crack a few jokes to lighten the tension, but Amy's sense of humor was taking December off.

So when a strange package came through the mailroom and was determined to be nonthreatening, of course it was directed to her attention. She checked the address label, then the return address, and muttered something unflattering under her breath. The Rolodex on her desk opened; she was surprised she even had the number, but at least she did, and she dialed.

What she failed to take into account was the substantial time difference between New York and Spain. Ashley was comfortably settled into a recliner in her Spanish apartment, not quite dreaming but definitely not awake, when her phone rang and refused to stop ringing. Borrowing a couple of interesting Spanish phrases she had learned from her teammates, she picked up the phone. "Go away."

"Love to," Amy said, and Ashley groaned. She would know that dry, corporate voice anywhere, and it rarely boded good.

"Then go."

"We have a package here for you."

"That's nice. I'm not picking it up."

"The postmark is from California. Know anyone from out there?"

Ashley raised an eyebrow. "Open it and call me back." She closed her phone, and her eyes, settling back into the recliner and putting her feet back up on the footstool. It didn't take long for the phone to ring again. "I said go away the first time, and I'm starting to mean it."

"Ashley, I think you're going to want to hear what this is." Amy's voice, staticky as the transatlantic connection was, seemed to have laughter in it. "No, seriously."

"It's not a good thing when you're having trouble keeping from laughing. Usually means someone upstairs did something stupider than usual."

Amy could no longer hold it in. "It's a BattleBot."

"It's a what?" Ashley sat up in her chair, unable to believe what she had just heard.

"A BattleBot," Amy repeated, calmer now that she had given Ashley the news. "And there's a card. 'Found this at a flea market- for some reason I thought of you. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. PS- we still have the lead, you know.' I… think I recognize this handwriting."

"I think I do too."

"You're in Spain. How do you- never mind. This falls under the heading of things I don't want to know about in order to preserve my sanity. Do you want us to send it on to you?"

"Oh, definitely. Definitely." Ashley's grin was not something Amy would have wanted to see- for that matter, most people would have been unnerved by it."

Megan was grinning, something completely different from her cheery "buy tickets from me!" smile that she had used to such great effect in her first season in the Liberty front office. Amy did her level best to ignore her, although she could feel Megan's presence behind her. The problem with trying to keep the site updated in the offseason was that she had to track down thirteen women in nine different countries, ask them questions, and get answers from them. And even then...

Janel- please note that we cannot list any current or former WNBA players as celebrities you'd like to kiss under the mistletoe. This goes double for teammates. I won't ask you to lie, but we can't use your answer.

Shay, please accept our apologies for the intern who asked you the Christmas questions. She didn't know you were Jewish, and she won't do it again. I think I'll be using some of your suggestions this winter season...

Erin, do not use the Q&A as a dating service. It never ends well.

Megan would not stop looming, and Amy finally swiveled her chair around to see what the situation was. There was a box in Megan's arms, festooned with unfamiliar stamps but bearing handwriting that Amy recognized immediately. The addressee was all too clear, written too neatly for any of them to claim ignorance. "When exactly did we become the FedEx drop box?" Amy asked rhetorically, to which Megan only shrugged.

Amy turned back to the keyboard and started one last new e-mail. Hi, Loree. Could you do us a really big favor and add a New York layover to your flight to Providence?

Loree arrived late that Friday, and the look on her face as she approached Amy was not promising. "What's going on here?" she demanded. "Why did you-"

"Relax, nothing's wrong. You, uh. You received a package." Loree seemed unimpressed, and Amy dropped the bomb, right about the same time that she dropped the box on the desk between them. "From Spain."

"Gimme." Loree broke the tape that sealed the box, not even bothering to look at the return address. She reached in, through a veritable ocean of foam peanuts, and pulled the item out- but when she saw it, she shoved it back in the box quickly and tried to pretend that she had seen nothing.

"Are you okay? I don't think I've ever seen you blush before," Amy said.

"You guys aren't protecting Ashley in the expansion draft, are you?"

"That's privileged information you know I can't share."

"She's going to need to be in Atlanta to keep me from kicking her ass for this little stunt."

"Mailroom said the box wasn't dangerous…"

"It's not." Loree paused. "You have to promise not to laugh. I mean it. Please don't laugh."

"Promise," Amy replied as earnestly as she knew how, and she would regret it a minute or so later, when Loree reached back into the box and took out a Tickle Me Elmo in frilly lingerie. Holding back the laughter hurt, and had Megan not passed behind them and started guffawing, she would have resorted to the coughing fit cover. The whole thing was so absurd that she found herself focusing on the little things, such as, "Loree... why is Elmo cross-dressing?"

Loree wasn't one to let embarrassment show easily, but her blush was deepening to shades Amy hadn't even thought possible. The explanation was mumbled and garbled, but Amy picked up enough to put it together with what she had seen on the message boards; Ashley's intent, then, hadn't been so much to send a Tickle Me Elmo as it had been to send a Tickle Me L-Mo, and apparently embarrassing the living daylights out of Loree was a bonus.

It was just as well that Loree didn't find the note until afterwards, when she was able to read it in private, turning so red that she was nearly orange-brown. When they all got back to New York, she was either going to kick the crap out of Ashley or kiss her until she was breathless. She'd been warned about the warped sense of humor Huskies seemed to have, and she'd known that Ashley was even weirder than most of them, but this was over the line even for Ashley. On the other hand…

Hope you like this- I screened two little old ladies and a six-year-old girl to get the last one at the store. Did you point out on the doll where you were touched? Wish I could see them try to explain that away. Merry Christmas. PS- you may have the lead over us, but I have the lead over you. Bling don't lie.

PPS- yeah, I love you too.