[Of course the snow hardly bothers Archer. It seems to just melt off him. Like snow flakes on the sleeves of a coat. He shovels up the next part of the path as he moves. The snow landing off to the side of the walk. He takes a step to the left and pauses before scooping the next. Hands still on the barrel, not quite clinging. One looped through the handle.]
Maybe. But we can't take that sort of chance.
[His father insisted upon it. Clean walk the entire way around. But his back wasn't as strong as it used to be, which left only one option for shoveling. He hardly minded, truth be told, and he found the cold air rather refreshing. Much more freeing than the stone building could be at times. The cold hung around like icicles in the gutter.]
Does he know you've wandered off?
[Idly. Sets to work scooping the next part of the walk. Lets loose the snow and ice crystals that cling so stickily to the path.]
no subject
Maybe. But we can't take that sort of chance.
[His father insisted upon it. Clean walk the entire way around. But his back wasn't as strong as it used to be, which left only one option for shoveling. He hardly minded, truth be told, and he found the cold air rather refreshing. Much more freeing than the stone building could be at times. The cold hung around like icicles in the gutter.]
Does he know you've wandered off?
[Idly. Sets to work scooping the next part of the walk. Lets loose the snow and ice crystals that cling so stickily to the path.]