[ He takes off the scarf anyway, the chill bearable when it isn't actively snowing, snowflakes like biting insects. Gloves too, and outer coat, even if his breath still comes out like steam, looking around the space and peering up after her with open interest as he fishes something out his coat pocket before he sets it aside. A small flask.
Once she's scampered back down, she'll find him standing by the fire, letting the warm thaw out the backs of his legs. ]
I don't intend to journey back today, [ is a fair warning. ]
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Once she's scampered back down, she'll find him standing by the fire, letting the warm thaw out the backs of his legs. ]
I don't intend to journey back today, [ is a fair warning. ]