With each measured breath you take, puffs of cold air escape your cold lips. Had it not been for Kate's warm coat draped over your shoulders, they might have resembled a pale blue colour. Kate can do nothing but admire the expression your face – a childlike wonder had overtaken you when the snow had started to fall, abandoning your shopping in one of the winter markets to find a secluded park bench that overlooked the icicle lights lightening the city up. Kate didn't mind, not when she had two breathtaking views right in front of her.

For all Gotham could be, she was pretty when winter was involved. Pretty, but dangerous.

Kate had you securely tucked into her side, warm drink clenched between your red bitten fingers. Her own gently rubbed them, as if hoping you weren't cold, even when drowned in both her own coat and the red scarf she had taken the liberty of wrapping you up in when the cold settled in. For now, the night brought peace. Her lips found your temple, the both of you covered in little drops of white snow.

"Tell me if you are too cold, my love," she murmured against your skin. You should be the one telling her that when she had given up her coat, but the winter cold wasn't something that could so easily conquer Kate. "It is getting late, after all."