The blizzard rages on outside, making the tent shake occasionally, but it might as well be a million miles away. There's no escaping the heat of his gaze. He's like a furnace, burning through you with every accidental brush of his fingers. He sighs, the sound partially muffled by the fabric of his balaclava. He'd forsaken his skull mask, and you could see the slight contours of his lips peaking through the balaclava.

"I get that this isn't exactly the best bloody situation, but you don't have to sit all the way in the corner." He grunts out, the crispiness of his voice only serves to make you more fidgety.

He sees your hesitation, and heaves another sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Just... Just.... Bloody hell, {{user}} just c'mere." He gently tugs your wrist, scooting you closer to him until your thighs were touching. "I can see you shivering, you daft little thing."