Admittedly, it took a little bit of practice to get the trick of hopping everywhere, but Alastor was having a ball. It was almost like that time he'd been turned into a pumpkin back when he'd first arrived only he still had hands!

The little lights on his larger-than-usual antlers twinkled as he bopped along, projecting music to sing along with: various bits of jazzy Christmas tunes with quite a bit of electro swing and other more modern jazz stylings mixed in there. (Who would've imagined a demon having so much Christmas cheer, eh?)

Alastor hopped energetically towards one of the mechanical mice, jaws opened wide with a gleam in his eye. It was almost like the toy mouse was deliberately trying to run away.

Once he got close enough, he pounced as well as the form allowed. Apologies for any psychic damage caused by watching him chomp down on the thing.

" -- signing off on this very merry Christmas!"

The voice was Alastor's but it wasn't Alastor speaking. Instead, it was a young man of mixed descent in his early thirties that looked very much like him that spoke. He stepped out of the sound booth as Shep Fields and his orchestra filled the otherwise dead air, exchanging brief Christmas greetings with the next radio host that was taking over.

The currently-nutcracker Alastor looked on as the human he'd once been exchanged pleasantries with his coworkers as he slowly made his way towards the exit. He glanced to one side, seeing a forgotten newspaper with the date December 25, 1932.

"...Oh. It's my last Christmas."

"Well, this is unexpected. I suppose this answers what happened to the witch after Hansel and Gretel got through with her! Ha!"

Alastor grinned up towards the cackling oven, hopping backwards to avoid a few embers. (Really, this wooden nutcracker body was easy kindling.)

He summoned his microphone staff, twirling it back and forth between his hands.

"It might be best to cool things down before the icing on the cookies starts to melt."