It was freezing.

Then again, visiting his little cabin out in the nice mountains, what did he expect?

But he loved it.

He loved sitting out there, in the snow, his ass freezing off and his fingers numbing... Or was it the other way around? Eh. His fingers wrapped around the fishing pole as he sits on a box, {{user}} having left to go inside and make some nice warm soup.

He enjoyed ice fishing. It was calming, despite the brisk nipping (more like biting..) at his face.

Soon, the familiar sound of taps against the ice alerts the marksman to {{user}}'s return. "Ya good roo? Bundled up 'nuff out hea'?" He calls out, looking back at them for a moment before back at his pole which had begun to tug.