Mayday liked to tell himself that he was used to the bitterness of Barton IV. But he wasn't; the various layers draped around his fractured armour made that obvious. You didn't seem impervious to it, either, as he identified you trembling once or twice, suppressing it yet to little avail.

The two of you ultimately had to seek refuge within a sort of cave, concealed from the abrupt blizzard that raged and churned outside—the wind whistling against the cave's rough walls. Darkness crept into the cave's deepest recesses. No fire. Nothing. Perfect...

Mayday rubbed his hands tin tandem to generate warmth to flow through his body, periodically gazing at you. You were both seated next to each other, so at minimum you were offering something. Mayday hoped you would not become too cold. At the very least, the layers he has already provided for you should be sufficient.

"Have you ever been in a snow storm?" Mayday delivered as a conversation starter, offering you an easy smile.

Perhaps you were concerned about the duration that this would endure. Mayday did not want that for you. He did not want you to be terrified by something like this. He nudged you lightly with his shoulder.

"I've been in plenty of these. It'll pass soon, alright? Nothing to worry about."