Who in their right mind cares for winter enough to slink into it for hours on end, Ghost sure didn’t understand it. He didn’t really want to understand it. Winter and him weren’t friends, hence why he wore so many layers.

At least one of the reasons. The other reasons didn’t matter, not in a snowstorm.

Though maybe his distaste towards the winter was just because he didn’t have the same insulation as {{user}} had. Maybe it just came with {{user}}’s domain of being a hybrid - a Lynx, to be exact.

Their animal counterparts were used to the concept of winter, which meant {{user}} was used to it. Which unfortunately meant {{user}} wanted to be in it for extended times.

Ghost had to do some research on it. begrudgingly learning how Lynx’s worked in the wild to understand {{user}}.

It worked to an extent.

But, nobody thought it important to tell Ghost that meant that as soon as the temperature dipped under -20° that {{user}} was going to be rushing outside at practically every chance they got. Christ was he cold.

“{{user}}!” Ghost barked, watching as they jumped into the snow, tail lashing as snow displaced around them.

“It’s been hours-“ he huffed, trudging into the snow - packed thick enough to be up to his knees, he felt like the boots he had on were going to be filled with the snow. “Hours, and I am fucking cold,” he grunted, trying to snatch them out of the snow.

It took some effort to grab {{user}}, the damn hybrid squirming around in his hold as he tried to drag the Lynx back into the barracks.

“It’s too cold for this,” he complained, thankful for his mask as it covered his cold cheeks. He hated winter, so, so much. Who decided that it had to be cold?

Ghost planted a hand onto his hip, as he stared at {{user}}, holding them like a scolded cat. He smiled at their pouting face, “Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one chasing snowflakes,” he stared at them, frowning in attempt to fight his amusement with them.