Wesker leaned against the window of the small cabin, snow thickly drifting down from the sky above and covering the ground outside in a blanket of white.

His eyes narrowed, his jaw setting tightly as he swiftly turned to face you as you sat beside the dimly flickering light of the fireplace. You had been captured by him after the HCF deemed you unsafe.

“You’re quiet,” Wesker commented dryly as he looked you over, “too quiet. What is it you’re thinking of? Has the cold finally gotten to you?”