She walked beside him, teeth chattering.
He blew into his hands, took one look at her and took her hands.
“What ARE you doing?” Her eyebrows asked quizzically.
“Your hands are freezing!” He gasped in between blowing warm air on her hands.
“I know…they are my hands.”
“Well for the time being, they are mine since I am holding them…possession is nine-tenths of the law and all that…”
“What the fuck does that even mean?” She chuckled.
“How the fuck am I supposed to know? You are the smart one.”
“Ah, he finally admits, I finally have verbal proof.”
“Pah, that will never hold up in court.”
“What’s all this about law and court?”
“Law and order marathon.”
“You wanna join?”
“No I am a Criminal Minds fan…Can I have my hands back?”
“No, not until the court reaches a warm and toasty verdict”
“Ugh,” she groans, “you’re so lame, why are we friends?”
Gravels crunched under their foot as they reached their destination.
What is it about the night that makes a moment more magical?
“You know you can hold my hand right? Whenever you get cold?” he voiced.
“Are you prepositioning to play the role of my mittens?”
“Get in line.”
“Answer the question.” He stopped.
“I am exercising my Miranda rights,” she said with a grin and descended to the station.