[He's not expecting anything to be thrown at him. He steps back, only to find the soaring bit of snow crumbling to bits. It does nothing but dust over him, each little bit of it cold to the touch, even colder than him.
He blinks, then turns his gaze upon the perpetrator, Sam. He grins back.]
no subject
He blinks, then turns his gaze upon the perpetrator, Sam. He grins back.]
This is the snow of which you preach?
[He never gets anything like this.]