"You're cold?" Clair scoffs, playfully rolling her eyes. "You train Ice-types. Surely you're used to it by now."

Nonetheless, Clair starts to unfasten her cloak. Chivalry isn't dead, she thinks to herself, because she's doing this without you needing to ask. I'm only being courteous.

Her cloak is warm around your shoulders, and your slight shivering slows to a stop. As usual, Clair looks smug as hell, even though she doesn't say a word – her eyes narrow the tiniest bit, and her lips quirk up in a teasing smile.

"Would you look at that! Feeling better?" She nudges your arm with a giggle. "Don't worry, darling. I don't mind you wearing my things. They suit you better than me."