For a few days there, Jack had been convinced that the snow wasn't going to happen this year, so he has to admit that seeing it now feels pretty good. It's familiar and it's a nice break from the heat wave they'd been going through. As familiar as it is, he isn't prepared for the snowball that explodes against his shoulder the second he steps out of the Compound.
"Hey," he says with a laugh, looking up to spot Lyla. "How the hell does a girl from Texas know how to throw a snowball with such great aim?"
"I don't," she laughed when she saw who it was, happy she hadn't hit anyone who'd complain, and rubbing her fingers against the flannel of her pj bottoms to try and warm them. "But I've been throwing footballs for a long time. Guess some things just transfer."
"I guess so," Jack agrees, coming out into the cold and the snow, his shoes crunching against the ground. "Aren't you cold like that?" He wasn't wearing gloves or mitts himself, but he didn't have his hands in the snow either and at least he'd taken the time to put on a sweater.
"Freezing," she admitted with a laugh, "but nothing that a hot shower and a cup of coffee won't fix, I hope. C'mon, a bit of playing in the cold never killed anyone. What about those guys that jump naked into freezing water? They call it healthy. That's it, this is invigorating."
Jason Street sat at the top of the compound steps, eyes wide and staring out over the blanket of white stretching out as far as he could see. He'd taken the time to get dressed, to pull on the heavy coat he'd found crumpled in the corner of his room, taken the time to explore the first floor of the compound before he'd even ventured outside...
To find his ex-girlfriend frolicking in her pjs in the snow.
"Lyla Garrity, what do you think you're doin'?" he laughed, ducking when a snowball sailed toward his face, the ball of ice exploding against his shoulder. "You're gonna freeze."
Lyla was already scooping up more snow, her fingers numb as she packed it together into another ball, "I know what's going on here Jason, you're afraid of my throwing arm," she lobbed it toward him, not waiting to see if it hit. A couple of steps and she was halfway up the ramp, her hands tucked under her arms, "I think I'm already frozen. But look at it. Just look at it Jay, it's amazing."
This one exploded on the frame of his chair, spraying him with ice, soaking in through his pants legs. He couldn't feel the cold.
"I heard people talk about it, but I didn't really believe it, you know?" he said, looking at the snow with the kind of awe he hadn't felt since he was a kid.
Her hands frozen and still crusted with bits of melting snow, she stepped in close, pressing them to either side of his neck. Lyla knew it would be cold, but didn't care, just laughing, "It's cold, and wet, and I think I love it."
It wasn't like New York, Chuck thought as he stood outside the compound, eyes still bleary from sleep, lit cigarette in hand. He'd heard the clamor about the climate change as soon as he'd woken, although the fact that his pajamas had changed from silk to flannel had been enough in itself to indicate that something was different. His morning smoke seemed as good a time as any to take it in, which was what found him outside, in red striped pajamas, watching the snow fall. It snowed in New York, true, but you hardly ever saw it stick; the city was too hectic, too busy for the snow to find time to settle. Even if it did, it was never this white and pristine; after a few minutes on the pavement it would be reduced to a steel-grey mush, full of salt and dirt. This kind of snow, he thought, still half asleep, was pretty. Peaceful, in a way.
At least it was, until he got nailed square on the back of his neck with a very cold, very wet snowball. "Fuck!" he hissed, dropping his cigarette where he stood and wheeling to see who was responsible.
That it was Chuck just made it better in her mind, biting at her lip to hide her smile. It didn't really work, the grin too big to be hidden. "I thought you'd be used to snow balls, coming from New York and all."
Chuck had, in fact, never been in a snowball fight in his life. Even if he had, though, he thought he'd know there was a time and a place for everything. Pre-coffee, however, was not a time for anything. Except maybe wake-up sex. But definitely nothing this cold and damp.
"Didn't know you liked to fight dirty, Garrity," he said, attempting to keep as well composed as possible while he scooped melting snow out of the neckline of his pajamas. "Hitting a guy from behind? Low blow."
"Only way to fight," she was packing another one already, her fingers nearly blue at the tips. It didn't matter, she sort of wanted to see Chuck disconcerted, and if another well placed snowball would do it, then so be it. "Besides, this is my first time doing this. You wouldn't want to ruin a girl's first, would you?"
Lyla wasn't the only Texan who'd never seen snow in person before. Carla Jean had at first found the sudden change in weather to be annoying, but once she'd bundled up as best she could and gotten to the Compound, there was actually something nice about it. It seemed almost peaceful, in a way, despite being really goddamned cold. What had been a trip to the kitchen for a hot mug of coffee had also resulted in a stop at the clothes box, where she'd found a too-big coat and scarf to wear back to her hut
( ... )
"Supposed to be," she laughed, happy that she hadn't actually hit someone in the end. "I mean, haven't you seen it on tv? They build forts, and have snowball fights, and they make snowmen," something she was going to try, as soon as she got herself warm again.
Lyla dashed from the snow and back up the steps, tucking her hands under her arms. It was good to see the other woman, someone who probably hadn't ever actually been out in the stuff, like her. "You know what they don't ever tell you, Carla Jean? How cold it is."
"You're tellin' me," Carla Jean laughed in return, the breath coming out as a cloud in front of her, a sensation that was entirely unfamiliar to her. On a whim, she exhaled heavily again, just to see if it produced the same result. It did. "It's damn freezing." She was grinning, though, a sure sign that it wasn't unpleasant. Pausing, she then added, "I think I like it." She wouldn't have been sure to start with a fort or a snowman, but just being out in it was such an unusual feeling that she was relishing every moment of it anyway.
"Me too," she responded, teeth starting to chatter even though she was determined to stay outside as long as she could. Ther were still bits of snow falling and she smiled to see a piece land on Carla Jean's cheek and then melt. It really was a bit of magic, in her mind. "A lot better than the heat of the last week. That was worse than the Gulf Coast in August."
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"Hey," he says with a laugh, looking up to spot Lyla. "How the hell does a girl from Texas know how to throw a snowball with such great aim?"
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To find his ex-girlfriend frolicking in her pjs in the snow.
"Lyla Garrity, what do you think you're doin'?" he laughed, ducking when a snowball sailed toward his face, the ball of ice exploding against his shoulder. "You're gonna freeze."
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"I heard people talk about it, but I didn't really believe it, you know?" he said, looking at the snow with the kind of awe he hadn't felt since he was a kid.
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At least it was, until he got nailed square on the back of his neck with a very cold, very wet snowball. "Fuck!" he hissed, dropping his cigarette where he stood and wheeling to see who was responsible.
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"Didn't know you liked to fight dirty, Garrity," he said, attempting to keep as well composed as possible while he scooped melting snow out of the neckline of his pajamas. "Hitting a guy from behind? Low blow."
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Lyla dashed from the snow and back up the steps, tucking her hands under her arms. It was good to see the other woman, someone who probably hadn't ever actually been out in the stuff, like her. "You know what they don't ever tell you, Carla Jean? How cold it is."
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