After writing three stories about Lyon and Ryland, it was more or less inevitable that I did a humor fic about them. As always, it's a holiday story...

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The residence unit looked like a tornado had touched down inside it, concluded Weinstine Co. Android L/Y-906 (Lyon). The blast on the surface of the planet Ragol that had wiped out the thirty thousand colonists of Pioneer 1 hadn't wreaked as much havoc to the physical structures. But that's what happened, she supposed, when a couple of dozen hunters threw a party.

"Well," said Donovan Ryland as he surveyed the mess, "this was certainly a...memorable...birthday." The red-haired, bespectacled Force was both the owner of the residence and the object of the party.

"Maybe we should have had the celebration at my residence?" Lyon considered. Like most androids, she had very little in the way of bric-a-brac in her own home, which was essentially a space to keep her recharge pod.

"It would just have meant I'd have had to carry all these gifts back to here," Ryland said, nodding to the surprisingly large pile of presents which had gone untouched by trash, spills, or general damage. Hunters were, after all, masters of controlled mayhem.

"And Justine would still have managed to spill wine on your dress at my home." Like most human Forces, Ryland's clothing was styled to resemble an ancient wizard's robes. He considered himself a spiritual successor to those who once had wielded "magic"--what he believed they now called the Photon energy which drove their society.

"Fashion advice from a woman whose carapace is built to look like a maid's outfit in pumpkin orange?" he said dryly.

"Ah, but at least unlike you organics, we androids don't eat, and therefore don't spill."

"A telling point."

"Which reminds me. I still have my gift to give you."

Lyon walked into the kitchen and fished out a brightly wrapped package from the cupboard where she'd secured it. She returned and set it on the table.

"Happy birthday, Ryland."

"Thank you, Lyon." He untied the green ribbon, then tore off the sparkly silver paper. Inside the wrapping was an Auto-Pak box; he tapped the corner tab and it fell open to reveal...a hat?

"A hat?" he repeated aloud. Specifically, it was a synthetic-silk top hat, black in color, with a violet hatband, sitting brim up.

"Look inside, silly."

Ryland reached into the hat and, encountering something, pulled it out.

*meep* the Mag chirped happily, wriggling its nose.

"It's been fed up already," Lyon explained, "to synchronize it with your mental power and to augment the defensive power of your Photon frame."

Ryland scratched the Mag behind its long, white ears. It was an ultra-rare model of the little support biomachines, a Soniti, which couldn't be bought but had to be hunted for in the field.

"This is incredibly thoughtful, Lyon; you must have worked for hours to get this for me." The Soniti wriggled its nose again, pleased with the scratching. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome; I'm glad you like it."

"I'm curious, though. Why the hat?"

Lyon laughed.

"Oh, that was for my sake. I just wanted to see it with my own eyes."

"A hat?" Ryland still didn't quite get it.

"A magician pulling a rabbit-Mag out of one."