Hans hauls his leg up, plopping it back down into the 3-foot snow in front of him. Drawing in air harshly, he climbs the steps back into base, punching in the keypad's code. He tears off his mask as a blast of heat hits him, returning sensation to his fingertips.

"Phew." He murmurs, hanging up his vest with the others and unzipping both his jacket layers.

"Hey, Berge, how was the rescue mission?" A coworker calls from the den. Others join her in various board and card games.

"Well, y'know. Wrong place, wrong time typa stuff."

"You're too nice." Another friend snorts, hunched over his Uno hand. "It's a buncha idiot teens who didn't read the weather."

Hans shrugs. The women speaks again. "Hans, up for a game?"

"Nah." Hans shakes his head. He's not mentally prepared for that much socializing right now. "I'm gonna go grab a bite."

"Then go visit your Demis, huh?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing." He retorts good-naturedly, leaving the group to their own devices. He makes one pit stop in his room to remove every layer but his hoodie, and change out of the snow pants, then starts his search for you.