without drawing her frozen hands from the depths of her jacket (she knows now that wearing something with a much heavier material may have been ideal), emi attempts to dip her chin and mouth further beneath the fabric of her scarf, watchful eyes flickering to the stranger beside her. briefly, as a cautionary measure, she seals her mouth closed until she is sure—by judgment of the male’s appearance—that there is nothing to be overly wary about. “quite frankly, it’s cold out here and i hate the cold,” she answers, tone indifferent. “i’m not even sure there is much to answer in that question anyway. i don’t think it’s much of a conversation starter.” she sniffs, finally bringing a hand out into the cold to run a finger beneath her nose, not too concerned with her image at the moment. apparently, sickness is not trailing too far behind the obnoxiously cold weather. “here. you try it. ‘some weather we’re having, huh?’”