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[ The City -- snow covers all of it, piling up against walls, disguising parked cars as small hills of crushy white. We focus. Focus again. Focus on a small sidestreet. Focus on a restaurant, buried underneath layer upon layer of snow. Cut to black. ]

[ The inside. All is empty and dark safe one spot; a small glow comes from the kitchen. Focus. ]

[ In the corner, there is a small oven, an actual coal oven that you wouldn't expect to find in a place like this; then again, it /is/ a small restaurant in a sidestreet. Cuddled up to a bunch near the warmth of the open flame are two figures. One is tall, unmistakably female too, whisps of rose-magenta hair showing under the wool blanket she has slung around her shoulders. The other shape is male, shorter than the other, though not by much; still either are tall enough to top over average-sized people. ]

Woman: S-so cold...

Yes-s...

Woman: An-nd you c-can really not d-do anyth-thing at all?

Nothing at all. You sh-should be able t-to /feel/ that, Rucchan.

Ruto: I c-can't f-feel anything at all right n-n-now... ev-v-verything is n-numb. *the huddle quakes softly* Ian-chan, I'm afraid.

* cuddles closer* I'm s-s-sorry, Rucchan. I'm sorry. I can't do anything. I c-can't even h-hear them any m-more...