[He continues along his way. Occasionally sparing a glance upward. Watches the way breath spills forth like smoke. The shiver he's sure to feel running up places where jewelry used to jangle. The feeling of eyes upon him, glaring with dare.
And oh, he does. He does indeed. And there's still a sort of quiet to it. An inability to boast. The work will get done because it must, and because he's capable enough to do it. The cold doesn't bother him, and he doesn't work overly hard to keep it at bay. Only feels it in his fingers and the depths of his heart.]
Of course. Don't tell me the cold's getting to you?
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And oh, he does. He does indeed. And there's still a sort of quiet to it. An inability to boast. The work will get done because it must, and because he's capable enough to do it. The cold doesn't bother him, and he doesn't work overly hard to keep it at bay. Only feels it in his fingers and the depths of his heart.]
Of course. Don't tell me the cold's getting to you?