Eden didn't think about it really. That would have involved taking the time to pause and realize she was patting the snow into a ball, to consider that she was winding up and letting go. She didn't hesitate until the snowball was making its way through the air toward Bennet. It probably didn't even matter. He was Bennet. He probably already knew she was there, had probably known she was going to throw the snowball before she'd even made it. It was just how he was. She grinned, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket.
Shooting the snowball was not the best potential outcome, so he played along good-naturedly as he let it hit and give the direction in which it emerged from a suspicious look. "Now what do we say before pelting an armed man with snowballs, Eden?" he asked with a wry and teasing tone.
Eden stepped forward, hands in her pockets and an eyebrow arched, pretending to consider the question. She couldn't suppress a grin all the same, a little smug - not that it had hit, but that he'd let it. Maybe it was just the season. "'Don't shoot, I'm not up for dying again'?" she suggested dryly.
"I think between the two of us, we've endured enough bullets to last a lifetime," Bennet said, meaning that both on a lighter level and the genuine one, because while he had been shot a time or two more than Eden, he had also been infinitely more lucky about his shots.
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