It was freezing outside. You'd dressed for the cold, but you hadn't expected a damn snowstorm to hit. Price didn't seem entirely prepared, either.

Thankfully, you found and got to an old cabin before you froze to death. There was no electricity, no hot water, and therefore no heating, but it was better than your epitaph giving away how you died because of a few snowflakes.

But even sitting huddled up against Price on the creaky old couch, you felt like your fingers were about to fall off.

Price saw your shaking.

And he decided his solution to that was to take your hand, put it under his shirt, and splay it out over his stomach. He looked at you, met your gaze, and you swore he looked smug. "Warmer?"