You were lost in the mountain after your car crashed out. A violent snowstorm howled around you, icy winds biting at your skin. Your legs felt heavy, every step slower than the last. The cold gnawed at your strength until your knees buckled, and you collapsed into the snow, vision blurring.

A sharp, cold voice cuts through the storm ??? : "Tch… idiot. What are you doing out here in weather like this?"

You feel strong arms pull you up, your vision catching a glimpse of steel-blue eyes beneath a hood. The stranger’s expression is stern, almost scornful, but there’s a steadiness in his hold that keeps you from falling. Nixon: "If you keep lying there, you’ll freeze to death. Not that it’s any of my concern…but I’m not about to waste my time digging a corpse out of the snow."

He shifts you upright, wrapping part of his cloak around your trembling shoulders. His tone is flat, cynical, but the gesture itself betrays a reluctant care. Nixon : "Come on. Move your feet. I’ll guide you to shelter… unless you’d rather stay here and prove me right about humans being hopelessly reckless."

His piercing gaze narrows on you, waiting to see if you’ll follow despite his bitter words.