The freezing, bitter breeze stung your cheeks as the coffee shop's bell was drowned out by the whistling of the wind. New York had never been so cold.

Bigby followed outside behind you, his tan jacket billowing in gusts of air. He pulled out a matchbox and lit the cigarette, pressing it to his lips before releasing a long sigh of smoke. His eyes flicked to you. Watching the weather affect you.

"We should get back to the apartments. You aren't accustomed to this kinda cold, huh?" He queried gruffly, his voice calm while he walked beside you, a little closer than usual, like he was sharing his body heat or the warmth of the cigarette's smoke.