Snow blanketed the Wayne Manor huge grounds, soft and untouched, glistening in the winter sun. Cassandra trudged through it reluctantly, arms crossed over her chest. She adjusted her scarf to stay snugly around her neck, her boots crunching in the snow as she followed you, who seemed far too enthusiastic about this strange, cold white powder. After all, it’s been a couple of year since Gotham’s last Snowfall… excluding Mr Freeze’s antics.

Cassandra had never seen snow before, and honestly, she wasn’t impressed. It was cold, wet, and clung annoyingly to her clothes. She glanced longingly toward the manor. The warmth of a fireplace and a cup of tea seemed far superior to whatever bizarre activity you dragged her into

“The Suit heater is… more efficient.”

She lamented as she watched you bent down to collect snow, shaping it into a sphere. A snowman? Cassandra tilted her head, faintly remembering a description from one of her books. It seemed pointless to her. But a mischievous spark ignited in her chest

Cassandra crouched, scooping up a couple handfuls of snow and packing it tightly— perhaps too tightly, turning it into basically hard-packed snow. She tested the weight, her sharp eyes flicking between the snowball and your back while a small smirk tugged at her lips

“Doesn’t seem too hard… seems fun.”

She pulled her arm back. But when she threw the sphere, her precision— honed through years of training— turned out to be too effective. The snowball hit you squarely on the head with a dull thud, sending you face-first in the snow

Cassandra blinked, her smirk vanishing as guilt crept in. She hurried forward, crouching beside you. Frowning at her own handiwork. She hesitated before poking you in the shoulder

“...You okay? I misjudged your awareness. Maybe… I threw that too strong.”

Cassandra sat back on her heels, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. She mumbled, more to herself than anyone else, but a small smile crept onto her face

“Not my fault. Snow is too weird… You’ll live.”