@dealpartner continued from here.
The professor had been waiting outside the studio for some time now, watching his hot breath interact with the cold air. He had a scarf on, but unfortunately for him, he'd forgotten his gloves that day. He still had his coat pockets, but not even that would stop the frost biting his fingertips. In one of them held part of a finely stuffed scarf, half of it retaining warmth while the other dangled on the outside of his attire. He couldn't quite help that, though he hoped Ramb wouldn't mind it. Speaking of which... the bartender began to approach him, causing Layton to turn towards him. After he was at his side, he held out the scarf intended for him. It was blue and had a snowflake pattern in the same shade of purple that made up his fur. Ramb could feel the distribution of warmth and chills with each wrap of the fabric around his neck. Every touch to tuck the scarf in further resulted in his cold hands brushing against the bartender. One of those touches lingered far longer than it should've. He could excuse it as his hands being cold later. Both hands retracted, only to return to Ramb as Layton fixed the front of the scarf. With one final fluff, he pulled away, hands rubbing against each other. He smiled softly at his approval, letting out the softest of sighs. It still emitted from his lips and nose.
"I figured it was a necessity here. I never truly realized how... cold it got when you step outside the studio. There's winter everywhere you look. Not that I mind per se -- this is no excavation site -- but the frost is nothing to fool around with." Maybe he was acting hypocritically, his hands still out in the open. He pulled them apart and stuffed them back within his pockets. He gave Ramb a soft look. "I must say, I do believe I did a pleasant job in choosing one for you, Ramb. It fits rather handsomely." Layton pictured an older man looking a lot like Ramb, walking down the snowy streets of London in the dead of winter. It brought him solace, yet made him homesick. However, any man he might've found on the sidewalk in the rustic city wouldn't compare to Ramb here. There was something about the bartender that he had yet to figure out. He didn't mind that, either. The professor pondered, thinking of Ramb's boss and the handful of his employees who breathed in smoke on the regular. The imaginative smell made his nose wrinkle more than the chilly wind did, but he never could see himself with one of his own. He couldn't deny that it would make him warmer, however. Maybe Ramb too, but he still was unsure of all the substances he differentiated between work and home. It didn't matter much; he didn't have anything to provide regardless. He tilted his head only slightly at the bartender. Maybe he would warm him enough. "How was work today? Did anything peculiar happen?"
