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A hefty snowball sped into Von Lowenkreuz’s behind and blew apart, scattering snow all over her backside and thigh. Another was ready, but her head had already snapped around when your arm was raised- and slinging the ball for her face wasn’t something you could do.
“Brazen delinquents…” She said scornfully to herself, quietly, but a deep blue eye fixated on you, and stared. “Oh.” A completely blank and unbothered greeting that would have taken you aback if you weren’t distracted by seeing Winnifred Von Lowenkreuz’s face once more. <span class="mu-i">Oh</span>, like you had only seen each other a day ago. Like she hadn’t carried your son, gave birth to him. “Your method of flirtation has hardly changed, has it.”
Winnifred stared still, as she turned the rest of her body to face you. She’d exited motherhood very intact, it seemed. Slender as ever, even if the Luftpanzer jacket hung loose on her, being sized for you and not this skinny lady. She showed little emotion as ever, no happiness, no annoyance, but you saw just a hint of something, so small yet so much, when she looked you up and down, analytically, and let out a small sigh, a puff of warm air into the chilly winter- an involuntary admission of nostalgia.
She was waiting. Naught to say, until you broke your own silence.
>Hit on her. If she was going to talk like it’d been only a few days, you’d shoot back with the same. Why she was here wasn’t important, you were just happy for it without need for explanation.
>No reason not to be direct. Why was she here? She could hardly pretend this was an accident…and you were in a mind for answers these days, rather than just letting things pass.
>She forgot something at the Falkensteins. Point that out right off. Little else mattered at this point.
>Other?
