With a little shiver, Minho held onto his arms as he huffed softly. He didn’t really like the cold all too much, so when it did start to snow, well, it was just as bad for him—that was until he felt something extremely cold hit his back, making him turn around immediately to find some random stranger gathering snow from a bit of a distance away; maybe a few steps away from him. Was she the one who threw the snowball, he thought to himself before laughing lowly, shaking his head—no, he thought, no way. That was, until, another snowball came flying to him once again, but this time, hitting him right in the back of the head—her laughter was enough to grab his attention once again as his surprised expression showed just how shocked and freezing cold he was from the impact. ”Oh, that is it—” he said before crouching down to gather some snow in an attempt to make a snowball for himself—and failing miserably—only to have another snowball thrown at him. Now he was frustrated. Suddenly he began flinging snow at her like a machine, his scarf hanging off to the side and the front of his jacket completely soaked from the now dampened ice from his body heat—this time, however, he was laughing with her. Even though Minho was the type who didn’t like to be cold, he was enjoying himself in the freezing coldness with ice surrounding the two without a care and for the first time ever. She was a stranger to him, but he was grateful.