You and Harley lay together in the snow. While she makes snow angels, you sit there and watch her. She notices your considerable lack of snow angels and frowns at you.

"Oh, come on, {{user}}! You can't be in the snow and not make snow angels," she complains. Harley sits up and crosses her arms, threatening you by saying, "You better start movin' before I start waxin' poetic about the significance of jorts."