The d---able stuff that falls from the ceiling.
A moment of walking along, and then a moment of laying on the cobblestone, dazed and with no idea how they got down there. Their pants and jacket were wet on one side, and there would probably be a bruised hip in the coming days. If it had been back above, Cassius would just hang everything out by the fire, and all would be well. But this d---able stuff, which was called 'snow', but certainly wasn't -real- snow, was a completely different matter. They had read on experiments conducted with cats and it, and they had no wish to let it seep in and possibly be absorbed through their skin.
They swore.
When Cassius had opened their eyes that morning and saw The Chief laughing by the window, they swore. It was not that they didn't like snow...but this could not even been called 'snow'. This 'snow' was horrid, and probably toxic, and of unknown origin, and unnaturally cold & slippery, and--well and it made walking more of a dance than anything. This was how L.S. Cassius came to have slipped and fallen right in the middle of the street. Cursing-probably making a scene-they gathered their bearing and headed to the nearest public laundry. And better still the nearest public laundry to a place to buy better boots.
They swore.
When Cassius had opened their eyes that morning and saw The Chief laughing by the window, they swore. It was not that they didn't like snow...but this could not even been called 'snow'. This 'snow' was horrid, and probably toxic, and of unknown origin, and unnaturally cold & slippery, and--well and it made walking more of a dance than anything. This was how L.S. Cassius came to have slipped and fallen right in the middle of the street. Cursing-probably making a scene-they gathered their bearing and headed to the nearest public laundry. And better still the nearest public laundry to a place to buy better boots.