while the rest of the girls are drowning in roses and songs

[lucked]

While Mr. Muggles had long since learned better than to step foot outside with the streets filled with puddles and ice alike, Claire was starting to think of the whole change in terrain as an experience that she couldn't let herself miss out on. If everyone's predictions were right, then London wasn't likely to last longer than the month, and after

Comments

[not_so_smooth]

Sam had just been heading to get a bite to eat from the Compound, or what the Compound had turned into, when a snowball hit him on the side of the head. It wasn't necessarily a hard throw, but it wasn't a gentle lob either.

He immediately spun around to see who it was, only to lose his balance on the frozen ground and fall sideways into a pile of snow. Sputtering and shouting he jumped back up, dusting himself off.

"Oh, it is so on!" Sam called out. "Once I find you. And make a snowball. And get close enough to hit you with it? It will be on. And then off right away so you can't retaliate."

[lucked]

Biting down the temptation to call out with a taunt or two, Claire carefully kept her face slightly obscured by her feathered hat and moved slightly in the crowd, packing a second snowball with her hands until she could similarly chuck it Sam's way from a significantly different angle. The chances of her getting away with the second snowball without being recognized were slim, now that he was on the lookout for who'd been responsible for the throw, but Claire figured that it was probably a better idea to keep the fight going while he'd yet to pack a good snowball himself.

"Meaning I've just got to keep you from stalling long enough to make a snowball, right?" she called out his way, once the snowball was already hurtling through the air.

[not_so_smooth]

Sam was still scanning the crowd to try and see who might have thrown the snowball. It was the sort of thing Coraline might do, but he didn't see a flash of blue hair anywhere. When he heard the telltale voice though, he knew he should have guessed right away who it was. Claire was always a mischievous seeming one, what with her entirely un-mischievous face that was clearly a clever cover for mischief.

Sam turned toward her to offer some sort of witty remark... only to turn full face into the snowball she had just throw. It didn't hurt, she had thankfully not packed it that hard, but his pride was damaged. Bruised. Shattered in a way that could only be repaired by the blood of his enemies. Or, you know, by hitting them with a snowball.

"Claire Bennet!" he shouted in warning, crouching down to gather up his own snow ball, "So help me, you will be nicknamed Frosty I'm going to cover you in so much snow!"

[lucked]

The problem with trying to then hit Sam with a barrage of clumsily packed snowballs was that hitting him on the shoulder, neck, or indeed anywhere other than his face was bound to have little impact, especially when he was already mentally prepared for the attack. Still, Claire made her best effort, biting down on her lower lip as she tried to decide on the best vantage point. Something with a decent obstacle to block his snowballs, of course. And something not so large that he could sneak up to the other side without warning. She settled on a nearby parked taxi.

"Them's fighting words, Witwicky," she taunted in return, sticking her tongue out in his direction as she hurled another couple of snowballs his way. "You sure you wanna make a promise you'll never be able to keep?"