thearena | Beware the frozen heart [open]

Entry tags:

Beware the frozen heart [open]

Who| Hans and YOU
What| This happened, Hans is reeling from the aftershock.
Where| The elevator
When| Mid-week 3
Warnings/Notes| Freezing to death [spoilers under cut].

[[ooc: A shot of Elsa's ice to the heart basically spells out a slooow freeze to death from what seems like the inside out.]]

It's barely been an hour since Hans ducked out of the second floor, so it's no surprise that he's still going over the images in his mind. Way back when, he'd been fully prepared to kill Anna and Elsa, but it had been so calculated that he'd been able to cut himself off better. Everything had happened so fast, it still sickens him to remember all that blood.

Worst of all is the fact that he's pretty damn confident Elsa struck his heart. The tips of his fingers are cold and so are his toes, but his chest feels absolutely freezing. It's not long after that streaks of his hair are very gradually turning white. The more he notices, the more he panics and the panicking only seems to intensify the effects. He's pacing the elevator at first, staring at his hands and silently bidding them to stop feeling so cold. His mind isn't giving him any brilliant ideas, he can't even think of anywhere to go from this point on.

His indecision leads him to just hit every button with the intent of getting out wherever seems best, but eventually a wave of cold is going to rush over him and his legs give out. He slumps to the ground, huddling in the corner of the stupid, metal box and shivers hard as if the entire thing were made out of ice. Patches of his cheeks are starting to form intricate patterns of frost and the tips of his toes and hands are similarly decorated with the added effect of gradually turning blue.

The longer he remains there, the more impossible it is to stand. He looks hellishly pale and sickly and his breath is coming out in small puffs visible to the eye. He's all but given up on himself at this point, he may even feel the tiniest twinge of guilt for what Anna suffered, but his heart is double frozen over now. It's miniscule really, compared to the vast amount of self pity he has right now. He barely registers anyone entering the elevator, he can hardly bring himself to look or raise his head.

He's the exact opposite of a hot mess, gradually freezing in the corner there. There's blood spatters on his cheek and chest, indicating a bit of a scuffle that lead him to this point.

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Starkiller was annoyed. Not that he wasn't in a perpetual state somewhere between annoyed and downright angry, but still. Everything had been pretty fine for a while. He had an alliance, someone who he could sort of trust. They watched each other's backs. Then the girls had to come along and ever since then it's felt like whatever alliance they had was shaky at best. Anna was insufferable and Starkiller couldn't stand being around her, so often they split up.

But this time it's been too long and Starkiller doesn't like it. He's not sure if he's going in search of Hans to tell him the alliance is off or to tell him that he needs to cut ties with the women he's allied himself with; clearly they're a hazard. He figures he'll figure out what he means to say when he gets there, as he's still deciding. He's hesitant to call it off if only because Hans is still useful.

As luck would have it, when he enters the elevator, there's the man of the hour. Starkiller's expression, however, immediately flattens.

"I knew this would happen."

His voice is as flat and unimpressed as his face.

Edited 2014-02-04 11:59 (UTC)

Hans doesn't feel guilt like most people do, but he did feel genuine concern for their alliance. It certainly hadn't panned out the way he'd wanted it to. Having the girls around him was a risk, having them alone was a risk and everything under the goddamn ceiling was a risk. It felt like such a waste of a sword he'd hardly raised a finger to get.

His mind had wandered to him a few times, but he's not sure he trusts seeing him when he's so goddamn useless. That said, a mercy kill might be good right now. He's not sure he wants to meet the same fate as Anna... but he's not sure he wants to meet the same fate as Elsa. His mind is screaming at his legs to stand now, if he doesn't want to die he needs to stand but it seems damn near impossible.

He tenses as best someone half frozen can when a figure enters, but in order to keep up the act he heaves out a very visible sigh of relief and forces a pained smile up at the other man. "Oh- hello!" Still so chipper, he does this all to bother you, Starkiller. "Sorry." He does his best to sound earnest. "Is it cold in here or is it just me?" He struggles out a laugh. "Don't mind the icebreaker." Hans, stop.

If the goal is to bother him, then it's succeeding. How anyone can be so damn chipper when they're dying is beyond Starkiller. He at least assumes Hans is dying- there's blood and he seems unable to stand, though the fact there's no obvious wound has Starkiller wondering just what happened.

The jokes are lost on him, because he's not cold at all. His Vader shoes add dramatic background noise as he shifts a little and sighs. "Cut the jokes," he says in a bored tone. "What happened, exactly?" He's looking over Hans, and he notes that there's streaks of white in his hair that weren't there before. He also notices the way his breath comes out in puffs of smoke.

It's... odd. It makes no sense to Starkiller at all. "I suggest you make the explanation quick, we're not exactly somewhere safe. Can you stand?"

When you've been faking chipper your whole life, it comes pretty easily most of the time. He's pretty sure he's dying. He's showing all the symptoms Anna did and, unless Starkiller has news for him, he doesn't imagine he'll be seeing an act of true love anytime soon.

"Alright." He won't waste words on you anymore, turtleface. He'll save them for someone who really appreciates dark humor. "It's hard to say.." He trails off, managing to jostle just enough to make it seem like a shrug. "The Queen.." He raises a frosty brow at him, as if wondering whether he remembers who that is. "She..briefly regained some powers and it.." He struggles to find the words, hissing through his teeth as he thinks. "Didn't end well for anyone. She struck my heart."

He thinks that ought to be quick enough, and he doesn't answer the question so much as he attempts to push himself up off the ground only for his feet to slip out from under him. He'll just peer up at him dejectedly as if that answers the question.

Starkiller knows who Hans is talking about. The other sister, the one who came in recently. He doesn't trust her at all and she's the reason that the alliance was thrown even more into disorder, dragging Hans off to explore. He doesn't like her at all and hearing that this is her fault makes him angry. He knew those sisters were trouble, he knew it.

He doesn't quite understand what he means by the last statement, but he can only assume it's what's causing this cold that's slowly killing Hans. When the other man fails to stand, Starkiller makes to go forward- only for a flare of anger to course through him at the noise his slippers are making, because he's already angry at Elsa for doing this to Hans and cutting him short someone he can trust.

In a sudden fit of rage, he kicks at the wall of the elevator, hard. "Shut. up." He kicks it again, and then again for good measure until the shoe on his foot starts making wheezing noises rather than proper breaths. "I knew I never should have let you go off with them," he snaps after a moment, turning his attention back to Hans. He irritably steps closer to him, one slipper breathing normally and the other sounding like it's dying.

He bends down, grabbing Hans' arm and throwing it over his shoulders as he stands up, pulling Hans up with him and supporting him. "Come on, we'll find you somewhere safer than here." His voice is curt and he steps out of the elevator, not caring which floor it even is. "Somewhere you can die with dignity."

Starkiller's rage genuinely surprises Hans. Perhaps he'd sold him short, or even overestimated him emotionally. He hadn't expected him to give him anything but a cold shoulder, which would be a hilarious joke to make right now. He's well within reason to react with surprise, even when pretending to be the pleasant version of Hans.

He starts a little as Starkiller both yells and kicks the wall, as if afraid that he's about to lash out at him. If there weren't that risk, the little fit of rage would have been quite humorous. He cringes as the other man speaks, feeling a little like he's being chided by an older brother for a poor mistake.

"I couldn't very well leave them, could I?" He sputters that, his tone incredulous though he knows what Starkiller will likely say. He strains as he's pulled, his body protesting the movement and all but forcing him to press close to the other man. He's ice-cold all over, that much will be obvious with so much contact between them. "Thank you." It's curt, partly because he's tired and partly because Starkiller is so abrasive and positive he'll die that it's a bit of a buzzkill.

It's hard not to be sure of Hans' death when he feels so cold and can't stand. He's not trying to be an asshole or overly pessimistic, it's just simply the circumstances. He's sure Hans would rather him be honest than get his hopes up with the prospect of somehow living. It just doesn't seem likely.

"You could have left them," he says a little while after having lead Hans out of the elevator, as if he'd had to think about it for a moment. In reality, he's just had to take a moment to calm down and his voice is less abrasive now than it had been moments ago. "It would have been better if you had."

They're on a floor with a cafe and he spots it a moment later. Deja vu. Still, it's as good a place as any, at least there are chairs. He leads Hans over to it and guides him into one of them. "You and I could have made it to the end if they hadn't come along."

On the contrary, Hans is a guy who can appreciate a bit of false hope. He is, of course, brimming with self-confidence, even in near death situations. Though now that he's standing he can properly understand how hopeless he looks, his feet are doing just as badly as his hands and his entire body is beginning freeze up.

"I don't think you really understand how relationships work." He admits, evidently not as careful as he could or should be now that he's practically counting down the minutes. He feels scared, and he shouldn't, but he's utterly terrified of freezing to death and speaking to Starkiller is serving as an easy way to distract his mind. Dwelling on it for even a second is making the horror well up in him. This is a godawful way to die, Anna really ought to have panicked more.

He'll smile at Starkiller anyway as he's guided, wanting him to be sure he appreciates the help before he proceeds to nag him. "I had an obligation to them." And he's as curt as possible, trying to make it clear he'd rather not talk about it. "If you don't win without me, I'd be happy to try again next time." He sinks into his chair a little, trying to control a flurry of violent shivers by gritting his teeth.

Starkiller scoffs at the statement, but doesn't argue. He can't argue, to be honest. Because the truth of the matter is that no, he doesn't know how relationships work. He's been raised all of his life by the most hateful man in the galaxy and then betrayed by him. He has a very messed up sense of how these things work. He sees nothing wrong with cutting ties with them because they're a risk.

He rolls his eyes as Hans continues, especially because he's smiling. Who smiles when they're dying? It makes no sense how anyone can actually have any positive feeling if they're about to die. "You had an obligation to me, too," he states. The longer they talk, the more obvious it becomes that they're both certain Hans is going to die, and... Starkiller finds himself more and more put off with the idea.

For his own benefit, of course. Not because he has any sort of positive feelings towards Hans. There's especially no sympathy when Hans barely controls that shiver. Not a bit.

Starkiller lets out a gruff sigh. "I've survived on plenty of icy planets," he says after a moment. "You need heat." Getting into survival mode, Starkiller decides to try and at least help. If not delay it then maybe make his last few moments somewhere bearable. It's not because he cares, it's simply that he thinks there should be dignity in death rather than dying a shivering mess.

So he takes the other mans hands and sandwiches them between his own and starts rubbing back and forth vigorously, creating heat. He leans in after a moment and lets out a puff of warm breath against his hands and keeps rubbing, attempting to heat what feels like solid ice at this point.

Hans might not know much about Starkiller, but that much is very obvious. He's sure he's mentioned the fact that he's engaged to Anna, and that Anna is Elsa's sister. You don't...generally have to explain the importance and obligation behind those relationships. Of course, it's a bitter pill to swallow if only because Hans truly had wanted to shrug them off and win the games with Starkiller at his side. Up until he accidentally killed him, anyway.

"I know I did." He spits out, finding it harder to keep up the cheery charade, but his patience has every reason to wane at a time like this. "I apologised, but there's nothing more I can do. Not now, anyway." He's just going to hunch over a little, because he is several kinds of uncomfortable and gradually becoming stuck in the position he's in.

Starkiller continues to surprise him with his consideration, he honestly hadn't expected to be much more than a meal ticket to the other man. He does enjoy a person he has difficulty reading, but they also tend to make him wary. The smile is back in full force as he takes his hand, though his eyes reflect a little worry as it becomes apparent that he can't move his fingers. He lets out a content hum at the brief flicker of heat, showing his appreciation by letting his eyes flicker shut for a moment. A long moment. Gosh, everything is starting to sound so damn echoey.

He jerks his head upward, gasping in pain as he does. It's pretty damn awful to realise you were a couple of inches from letting death take over, but he doesn't show the fear long.

"I don't think it's working." He points out, trying to sound as if it isn't bothering him at all. Only it is. It really, really is.

Of course Hans is nothing more than a meal ticket. He's just a meal ticket that Starkiller wants to keep alive for a little while longer. Is that really so wrong?

He expects that once he's killed the cheery charade, it's gone for good but once more Hans surprises him by smiling at him. He almost asks why Hans is smiling, but he decides not to. The man is clearly going crazy with pain and not thinking straight. He decides not to say anything as he continues trying to breathe and rub warmth into the man's hands.

His eyebrows furrow deeply when Hans speaks, unaware of how close Hans had come to dying just then. It's true that they feel just as cold as ever, but he doesn't want to give up hope just yet. It's for his own benefit, that' what he keeps telling himself. It's not because the man is stupidly, frustratingly likable with his optimism and cheery demeanor. No, that's idiotic and not something to admire. It's... naive. It's childish.

Starkiller thins his lips and lets out a growl of frustration. "So this... ice witch. She did this to you- but I'm assuming she must be dead," he says. "Is there any way to undo it? Are you sure dying is the only option here?" He still rubs at his hands, trying to create friction, but they're ice cold and nothing seems to be working.

This meal ticket certainly isn't complaining, particularly since it's so afraid of dying right now. That charade is keeping him going right now, but it's no surprise he revels a little in pretending to be perfect. He finds that making himself smile is easing the tension in him some, though it doesn't dull the pain any. Perhaps he has gone crazy, but he feels like he got on that train more than a few stops ago.

He idly wonders if Star's attentiveness counts as an act of love, if only love for someone who can provide him weapons and advise him. Yeah, his cognitive abilities are spiraling the drain now. At least he can appreciate the endearing nature of the act, along with being faintly amused that he'd gotten through to the other man so quickly. He wonders how much more it would take to get a safe amount closer and if dying would potentially aid his heart in growing fonder of him. Starkiller is a strange choice, but his score reflects a strength that is more valuable than rank as far as arenas go.

He's been staring at him for some time, coming back to earth when he's asked a question that he feels the need to shy away from. "She's been dealt with." Another curt answer, he doesn't want to sound like he takes enjoyment in having killed her. He breathes out a sigh, the puff billowing out of his mouth as he does. "An act of true love." And if he weren't freezing to death, he would probably blush. "It's the only way to thaw a frozen heart." He adds on, feeling awkward leaving it sounding like a proposition. "It's weird. I know. Anything else would only stave it off temporarily, I don't want to burden you anymore than I am."

Starkiller will deny vehemently that Hans ha 'gotten through' to him. No, this is purely for selfish reasons, not because he has any sort of sympathy for Hans, god. He's still just as cold-hearted and angry as ever.

He loses any hope of actually being able to reverse this process when Hans explains just what's required to undo it. Love. It's not a concept Starkiller is familiar with. Maybe a long time ago, he had a family who loved him, but he doesn't remember them. He only remembers the coldness of Vader's personality and the heat of the lightsaber as it always came so close to killing him- and then finally did.

"If only there was someone who loved you," he murmured, not realizing how cold that really sounds. He means here, in the arena. As far as he's concerned, he doesn't have the capability of loving anyone. Juno had been... confusion, more than anything. A distraction full of confusion. Loving someone is only a weakness and that's what he'd told himself over and over when it came to Juno. He taps his fingers on Hans' freezing hands, trying to figure out a way to warm him up but he's coming up blank. "There's nothing I can do," he finally admits, rubbing a temple irritably.

It's frustrating, being so helpless. He ought to just cut his losses and leave, but he's come this far already and he can't bring himself to get up and walk away. Leaving Hans now would be pointlessly cruel. "But I can stay with you until the end." It's the least he can do. A second later and a thought comes to him, going back to something Hans had said. "... You mentioned she regained her powers. How is that possible?" It's a long shot, but maybe if he could do the same... maybe he could somehow use the force to help. He isn't sure how, but thoughts during desperation are never logical.

Not only are those words a cold, slap in his already freezing face. They resonate because they have a damn heavy amount of significance. He doesn't care, really. He chose a life in which he would never genuinely love in order to have all the affection and attention he could handle. Yet somehow, something bitter and defensive stirs in him and he's knitting his brows together to frown at Starkiller.

"Anna loves me." The defensiveness is very clear in how he snips out those words. He's perfectly loveable and worthy of special attention. He has twelve older brothers and parents and a fiance with a sister who tolerates him. He is loved, so why does he feel anger flare up at the slightest implication that he isn't. Yet, in saying that, he's failed to mention any mutual feelings toward Anna. It doesn't strike him as odd or cruel to use her as a counter argument to that of all things.

Hans can't will himself to pull his hands away, no matter how hard he tries. His arms have gotten so stuck in their position the mere thought of moving them is painful. "I would appreciate it." His tone is much softer, much more resigned to his fate. The numb and cold are overwhelming, it's getting much to hard to resist. "There are masks- on the second floor in the displays." It's getting harder to talk as much as he'd like now, but he fixes a worried look on Starkiller as best he can. "I don't trust them." His breathing is getting shorter and sharper, it's clear he's panicking a little as the ice continues to creep and spread over him. "I won't make it." He says finally, unable to hide the break in his voice as he gives in to being afraid of this. He certainly isn't about to cry, but the look of absolute desperation in his eyes is reflection enough of his feelings.

He doesn't realize how serious of a thing it is until Hans snaps at him. That's when he realizes the heaviness of the implication and for the first time in a while, actually lets himself feel a little guilt. "I meant someone who's still alive," he clarifies. While he's never felt love himself, he realizes that for some people it's clearly an important thing and that it's obviously important to Hans, too. So he feels alright with clarifying to try and make the situation a little better.

Starkiller closes his eyes with a deep sigh. He wouldn't trust the masks either, but for the moment they're the only hope. He's about to move to stand up when Hans speaks again, saying he won't make it. It's the break in his voice that has him stopping, the look on Hans' face only making it that much harder to justify not listening.

"But it's-" he stops. Something inside of him is telling him that no, now isn't the time to argue. He relaxes back in his position, no longer about to stand up. "Fine." His voice is quiet. He no longer knows what to do with himself; he can't help Hans, so all he can do is sit there on his knees and watch the man die. Is he supposed to say something? There's nothing that he can think of to say that might help.

After a moment, he moves on of his hands on top of the other mans hands and leaves it there to rest. It's really the only thing he feels like he can do. He's not one for gentle hugs or comforting words, but he can at least show he's there in some way. He can show his respect and gratitude for the man's help- however short lived it may have been. "I appreciate what help you've given me. I feel you should know that much."

Diana's really not one for approaching strangers in the arena's. Not with the amount of psychos running around. That was best left for the Capitol. There she could be within 3 feet of someone with a much lower threat level of being stabbed through the stomach.

All she'd really wanted to do was check the elevators again to see if her luck was holding out and she'd gotten another package.

The last thing she'd wanted was a meeting.

Her fingers had tightened around the bow on her shoulder the moment she'd spotted another person. But it was clear even before she'd finished even getting a good look at the guy that he was more likely to end up getting his own blood on Diana than making her bleed.

It doesn't stop her sliding her bow off though. This isn't her first arena. It could still be a trap.

The pretty teen slowly makes her way closer. "What got you?" There wasn't much hope in Diana's mind that she could save the guy, but she could learn from his mistakes.

Still, that stupid self hatred for being so mean to others chewed at her gut. "You should get warm." But what? Was she supposed to offer him a jacket? Her onsie? To keep a dying man warm? Is that what someone nice would do? Probably.

"It's fine." He breathes out, feeling the consequences of snapping as the tendrils of frost seem to tighten over his skin. Even if his heart is freezing, even if it was always frozen, there's still that tiny, desperate pleading sensation. The one just drives him into the ground out of an eternally unfulfilled desire for love and attention. He's become so good at ignoring what hurts in favor of striving for what he wants, but he's never been so close to death before, he's never felt this much at once and it's driving him mad.

He's failing to keep calm as his heart-rate is ever on the rise, it's getting hard to breathe as he starts to panic more and more. He wants to get up and move but he can't, he's literally stuck to the spot and it's finally starting to sink in how painful this is going to be. He's outright refusing to consider Anna at this point, he doesn't want his last feeling to be guilt for her. He pushes her, Elsa and anything familiar to the back of his mind as it claws desperately for a way to block it all out.

It's almost like Starkiller isn't there for a long moment of panic. His eyes are wide and his breaths are starting to come shorter and faster, his hands clench and unclench and it's all in vain. He seems almost surprised when Starkiller speaks again, fixing wide eyes squarely on him as he struggles to process what he's saying. He manages to nod, drawing in a longer breath before forcing himself to speak.

"You have to kill me." There's no apparent lack of conviction in his voice, he's firm in what he wants. "Drive your blade through my heart, please. I don't want to suffer anymore."

Edited 2014-02-11 15:32 (UTC)

Hans had accepted the possibility of being encountered at his weakest some time between who knows how many trips he's made. He'd almost been waiting for it, really. He's so vulnerable right now it would be just his luck for someone to pick him off easily.

He eyes Diana carefully as she enters, his eyes dull and tired as another shiver runs down his body. She doesn't seem too inclined to attack him, and he won't encourage it by moving, mostly because he honestly can't.

A sigh escapes his lips at the question, coming out in the form of a foggy breeze. The question has him grimacing a little, but even in death he feels he ought to be pushing that charming act for the sake of his reputation. "Whatever it was isn't a problem now." He answers curtly, but the corner of his lip curls into a smile.

"While that would be ideal..." He adds, glancing around the elevator and back up to her. "It would only be a temporary solution, I'm afraid."

She arches her eyebrow at his answer. "You'd think that. But let's just say I'm very familiar with things coming back at the worse time."

Biting the inside of her cheek she responds. "So, what, you just want to sit there and freeze?"

After another look around herself, she dubs it safe enough to crouch so they're on the same eye level. "What if I offer you my sweatshirt? Or am I not a cute enough date?" Snide humor the only way she can make herself be kind and offer.

"Would it help any if I told you it were a tribute?" Look at him, trying so hard to be helpful and also very discreetly setting Elsa up to be the bad guy. "I don't think I can go so far as to name names, but they are without a doubt dead."

As if on cue, another shiver runs down him and he huddles a little more into himself. "To be perfectly honest, I'm waiting for a better idea to dawn on me." He could always stand and freeze! He watches carefully as she crouches, giving her a wary look before smiling faintly at the comment. "I'd say it's more like you're too cute to be sacrificing your sweaters like that, especially when I'm liable to get frost on it." The Princely act is one that causes him such great suffering at times.

Watching someone die and being able to do nothing to help them is... an experience. Somewhere in the hardened heart of Starkiller's, he finds himself feeling sympathy for Hans. This truly is an awful way to die and Starkiller wouldn't wish it on his worst en- alright no, that's a lie. He would take a lot of pleasure in seeing Darth Vader die like this.

But Hans? No, it's a bit depressing.

To be honest, he's starting to think a mercy killing would be the way to go here. It seems senseless to suffer when he could very easily put a stop to it. So he isn't very surprised when Hans makes the request, though he isn't particularly enthusiastic to do it. Still, it needs to be done and he knows that. So he gives Hans a small nod.

"I see no other way," he says. "It really is for the best." Drawing in a breath, he stands up and reaches for his sword. He's never had to do a mercy killing like this before, so he isn't quite sure the etiquette on it. Do you apologize? Do you just do it?

Just doing it seems to be easiest.

He lifts the sword so that the tip is level with Hans' chest and then without warning, he thrusts it forward deep into his chest.

She pulls a vaguely convinced expression, shrugging. "I suppose that's a little better."

Diana doesn't seem overly impressed with Han's attempt at charm, though that might be because chivalry had clearly died when your supposed charming boyfriend was trapping young children's hands in cement.

Huh, not brought up that memory in awhile. Best to be quashing that back down.

She does smirk though. "Thanks for the consideration while you turn into human ice cream." She shifts from a crouch to a more comfortable kneeling position.

If there's anything Hans feels he knows about Starkiller, it's that he's the man for this job. He's definitely not emotionally uncompromisable, he's already seen some of the more vulnerable sides of him, but he's tougher than most. He doesn't doubt he's killed before, though his reluctance to do it is of some comfort. He's not nothing, he's important, he's worth saving. None of that matters, it isn't remotely important but it's just that tiny, little bit of him that gets satisfaction from it.

He nods and steadies himself as the other man complies, drawing in a breath and showing no sign of ever letting it out. His eyes widen when Starkiller draws his weapon and he squeezes them shut so as not to deter him. He knows how damn expressive they can be, the last thing he needs is for him to get cold feet.

The lack of warning is jarring, he tenses as he fills the sharp point press against his chest and finally releases his breath in a gasp as it's plunged into him. He's not nearly as far along as Anna managed to get, so he doesn't freeze entirely. The frost rapidly increases in speed as it threatens to entirely consume him before stopping abruptly as Hans slumps without a word. Seems a dignified enough end for a prince as wretched as himself.

Her reactions certainly strike him as odd, but it's hard to feel too stilted when you're freezing to death amidst countless other people being murdered by each other. He can worry about the girl who clearly isn't right in the head when he's done with this.

"There's never a bad time for good manners." He painstakingly lifts a brow at her, easing up on his wariness and focusing his attention a little more on trying not to die. Whatever, right? He can't help giving her a funny look for crouching, but he does his best to seem as if he appreciates the company. "I'm sure you have better things to do than watch me."

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Beware the frozen heart [open]

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/pounce

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yes good

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a bit late sorry ^^;;

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