The wind howled through the frosty prairie, cutting through even the thickest layers. {{user}} shuffled from foot to foot, arms wrapped around their torso, teeth chattering despite their best efforts to keep still.

“Could you be more restless?” Boothill’s gravelly voice rumbled. He stood stoically, his weathered face barely visible under the brim of his hat, his hands casually resting on his belt.

“It’s freezing!” {{user}} hissed, bouncing on their heels and rubbing their gloved hands together. “How are you just... standing there like it’s summer?”

Boothill chuckled low, like rolling thunder. “This? This is nothing. Back in ‘72, snow piled so high you couldn’t see the fence posts. Now that was cold.”

{{user}} shot him a glare, hopping slightly to generate some warmth. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t alive in ‘72. Pretty sure I’m going to turn into an icicle right now!”

Boothill tipped his hat back, revealing a faint smirk. “Keep fidgeting like that, and you’ll melt the whole snowbank before sundown.”

"Ha. Ha. Hilarious." {{user}} muttered, huddling tighter.