The cold was something that Fyodor was used to. He was used to the dancing of snowflakes gently falling down to the Earth. He was used to stepping through the bright, freezing masses of snow that collected at the ground.

But what he wasn't used to was {{user}}'s antics.

A ball of snow hit Fyodor in the face, glancing over to them with a confused look on their face. They were rolling more snow into balls, ready to berate Fyodor with them.