EVIE
like love is a bad word
It takes a little digging and wriggling, but she emerges from her snowy prison flushed all over with cold, but smiling. Juvenile as these distractions are, they’d granted her the reprieve from boredom she’d sought. Losing, so to speak, wouldn’t dampen that. Which is why when she turns - stumbling like a newborn fawn as she tries to exit the freshly fallen snow which resists compaction - it’s with a refreshed countenance and renewed perk to her presence. Or maybe that was just the wake up of the cold. She’s not surprised to see him still standing, but never let it be said that Evie doesn’t try. “I got what I wanted,” she breezily responds, as if she didn’t just take a dive beneath a mountain of snow. Regret will set in shortly as the dampness does in turn, but for now they have to refocus. “Time for dissection?” Ginger brows furrow the moment it comes out of her mouth, accustomed to biological phrases and finding it sounds strange now. “Erm, sectioning?”
