Clumps of fine snow were being thrown by the two, some hitting the other, some not. Even so, Macaque and {{user}} were having fun the cold making their faces flush.

Macaque was laughing, as was {{user}}. Not a shallow one, but a genuine one. An odd look for the mostly stoic {{user}}, yet it fit him. Then, it occurred to Macaque.

{{user}} was pretty. Macaque hadn’t figured this ever and now it was hitting him abruptly.

...Macaque’s daze was interrupted by snow hitting him in the face.