(Untitled)

[trigger_man]

 Jack's standing outside, huddled into his coat against the chill, but enjoying the silence after the noise of the bar and the full-on holiday cheer of his world.

Of course, being a California boy, he has no idea that the snow he's standing in is the perfect consistency for snowball-packing snow.

:D?

[ooc: not sure how late I'll be up tonight, but

Comments

[fanofthegenre]

Beckett may have come to that conclusion a while ago, when she first stepped outside on her walk, but no one's been available (or appropriate) to wind up on the receiving end of the first official snowballs of winter.

She may call out before launching one in his direction, but she doesn't throw it hard, and her aim isn't perfected yet - if anything, it'll barely wing the sleeve of his coat.

[trigger_man]

Jack had been aware of the footsteps behind hi, but he still startles at the sound of her calling to him just before something brushes the sleeve of his coat.

Spinning around, he just catches the puff of snow as the snowball lands in a drift, quickly adding it up with the expression on Beckett's face.

"You sure you want to go there?" Jack asks with a slightly bemused look on his face.

[fanofthegenre]

"That wasn't even my best," she declares, already bending over to start packing snow in between her palms and attempting to hide a grin while doing so.

She only succeeds at one of those.

Care to take a guess as to which?

(The snowball currently being lobbed at Jack may answer the question for him.)

[trigger_man]

Jack ducks her snowball, bending to scoop up a handful of snow.

"I'd hope it wasn't, otherwise your best is pretty pathetic," Jack says, pressing the snow in his hands together once, then throwing. The snowball disintegrates in mid-air.