➸ His ginger hair was disheveled and messy, whipping around wildly in the roaring wind. The heavy snow that drifted down from the dull gray sky laced his eyelashes and the tips of his fingers were being nipped at by frostbite, pink contrasting his pale skin. A single line of blood streamed down from the cut on his lips and he grinned at you, despite his dire circumstances.

➸ "Heh ‒ now, now, girlie. I'm sure we can talk this out. Ah ‒ fuck, you've got quite a strong grip. What are you even trying to kill me for? I'm just your good old buddy Childe." Childe said with a slight smile, wincing as he clutched at your hand around his throat.