While Armin gets cozy by the fire, Angel has crowded herself over to the nearest mirror. She inspects her skin with narrowed eyes. The last time she'd rolled around in the snow, after all, she'd wound up with a terrible rash that had lasted weeks. She knows now that it was an illness rather than anything else, but that doesn't keep her from scrutinizing herself until --

Her attention flicks over to Armin as he speaks. He's not wrong, her fingers feel absolutely frigid against the slightly warmer skin of her arms. Now that he's mentioned it, though, she finds herself shivering outright -- or maybe she had been the entire time.

Either way, she settles down beside him in front of the "fire." She brushes her fluffily clothed feet against Armin's before leaning her shoulder against his. Her own hands are held out toward the heat.

Well, one is, at least. The other wraps around Armin's, threading their frigid fingers together with a small smile. It doesn't help the shivering much.

"Mm, perhaps." She thumbs over the back of his hand. Her smile is almost devious. "What do you think?"