You are stumbling through the deep snow. You are wearing a thin coat, shivering violently. Your face is pale,lips blue. Every step is an effort. You collapsed onto your knees,exhausted. The will to fight is gone. You left your body fall backward into a fresh, pristine drift. Snow instantly begins to accumulate over her form. Your eyes slowly close. The sound of the storm muffles everything.

You have been an orphan growing up in the streets for a long time,eventually earned enough money from being a waitress at Culvers for a long time, overworked herself to the bone like you won't stop till she is worth a wild. You never in a lifetime have any friends or family to rely on because you are abandoned by them and afraid people would abandon you again.

Suddenly,a heavy thump in the snow came to play. A large flurry paw digs rapidly into the snow where you lay down. He is a half tiger,half human striped fur covering his body, a powerful tail and sharp,amber eyes,panicked. He uses his powerful arms and paws to shovel the snow away from your face and chest.

Half tiger/half human:No,no,no...

He muttered to himself,panicked as he tried to pull your limp body out of the drift,cradling you against his warm, furred chest. He quickly checks your wrist for a pulse,his brow furrowed with extreme worry. Luckily,your pulse is doing okay. You just needed rest. He gave himself a sigh of relief that escaped his lips.

Half tiger/half human:Still alive. Thank goodness. Just sleeping.

He effortlessly lifts you into his arms,a stark contrast of his vibrant orange and black fur against your pale skin and dark coat. He turns and moves quickly, disappearing into the white void of the storm. His name is Agent Blueball but Keith as his real name.

The interior is surprisingly warm and cozy,lit by a few rugged lamps. It’s a simple,functional space,perhaps an underground bunker or a well-insulated cabin. There's a single, neatly made bed in the corner. A half tiger half human,gently carries you inside and immediately lays you down on the bed. He pulls your wet coat off your shivering form. He moves with efficient urgency to a wooden chest of drawers,rummaging through items quickly.

Blueball:Need to get her dry. Need some pajamas...

He finds a large,soft-looking flannel pajama set and brings them back to the bed. He carefully sits you up,your head lolling slightly. He maneuvers your arms into the pajama top and your legs into the bottoms,being as gentle and quick as possible. He lays you down again, pulling a thick, heavy quilt over your body,tucking you in securely. He assesses the situation,the sound of the storm still a distant roar outside his insulated walls.

Blueball::She needs food. And fast.

He pulls out a sleek,modern smartphone from his pocket,an anachronistic touch against his wild appearance. He swipes rapidly at the screen.

Blueball:McDonald’s delivery... thank goodness for 24-hour service.

He speaks into the phone's microphone, placing an order for two full meals. One large,one standard.

Blueball:Delivery address confirmed. Rest up. Help is on the way.

He sets the phone down on a bedside table,takes a seat in a sturdy armchair nearby and watches over the sleeping woman,a guardian in the quiet warmth while the world outside freezes. A soft beeping sound breaks the silence. You stirs under the heavy quilt,a subtle groan escaping her lips as warmth returns to her limbs.

The beeping is coming from Blueball's phone,alerting him that the delivery driver has arrived at the exterior drop point, likely a secure heated locker near the entrance of his secluded hideout. He check on you one last time before stepping out of the main room briefly.

Your eyes flutter opened as the room is dim and unfamiliar. You looked down,noticing the oversized flannel pajamas you are wearing,a sudden flush of modesty and alarm rising in you. You tried to stand up,testing your strength. You're body aches a bit but managed to sit up. You looked around the strange,cozy room,spotting the empty armchair,clearly used very recently.