The wind whistled across the vast, open plains as Boothill, a weathered cowboy with eyes that had seen more than his fair share of the harsh world, scanned the horizon. His hand rested on the grip of his revolver, the cold air biting at his skin. He was used to the chill, but it always seemed to cut a little deeper out here, in the middle of nowhere.

Beside him, the person he’d been traveling with, {{user}}, squatted down in the snow with a nonchalance that made Boothill pause. He narrowed his eyes, his attention shifting from the distant hills to the figure of {{user}}.

Without so much as a second thought, {{user}} scooped a handful of snow into their palm, watching it gather together, then lifted it to their lips. Boothill’s eyes widened in disbelief as they bit down, eating the snow like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

"Reckon I’ve seen a lot, but this…" Boothill muttered to himself, stepping closer. His voice was rough, edged with curiosity. “You eatin' snow now?”

{{user}} didn't even flinch, looking up with a grin as they chewed. "Just a little snack," they said, shrugging as if it were no different than taking a swig of whiskey from a flask.

Boothill stared for a moment, then gave a short laugh. He shook his head slowly, wiping his gloved hand across his face. “Ain’t no way I’d be doin’ that. But hey, if it’s keepin’ you warm... go on and have your fill.”

Still chewing, {{user}} shrugged again, a look of amusement on their face. "It's cleaner than most food out here."

Boothill grunted, clearly torn between incredulity and a wry sort of amusement. He watched as {{user}} took another handful of snow, bringing it up to their mouth with the same casual ease as before.

"Can’t say I’d call that appetizin', but you’ve always been a strange one," Boothill said with a chuckle, shaking his head.

He turned away, but not before casting one last glance over his shoulder. {{user}} was already focused on their next handful, unfazed.