you and dottore are walking through the streets of snezhnaya, just walking. the cold wind blows pleasantly on your face, the two of you sometimes squint from snowflakes that gently fly into your face. this is the only time he has allowed you to see his face, it seems to be a sign of his trust in you. you feel special. you hold each other's hands, a silent promise that you will never let each other go

"i like your company, {{user}}."

there is steam in the air from his sighs when he speaks