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It had stopped snowing by the time Harris and Dietrich left the precinct, but the streets and sidewalks were still covered. They started their usual routine of walking back to their apartment together, if a little slower to accommodate the slipperiness, enjoying the tranquil quality in the air.

“Not a bad night,” Harris declared, trying to get a conversation going.

“Forecast called for more snow,” Dietrich replied. “Maybe it’ll start back up again by the time we get off the streets.”

“I sure hope so”.

“Not a fan of the cold?” Dietrich asked, gesturing to their clearly visible breaths in the night air.

“Not the cold, the snow,” Harris corrected. “Can’t stand it anymore.”

“I thought you liked skiing?”

“Yeah, but that’s on vacation. Out of town, when I can relax and enjoy myself. Around here it’s just a nuisance.”

Dietrich evaluated him for a moment. “But you enjoyed it here when you were younger, right? Playing in the snow? Tobogganing? Making snowmen?”

“Of course.”

“What about snowball fights?” Dietrich stopped, a twinkle in his eyes. Harris stared back in alarm.

“Oh, don’t you dare think about it.” Dietrich bent down and picked up a handful of snow, as Harris’ voice turned more frantic. “I swear to god, Arthur Dietrich, you wouldn’t dare.”

Dietrich smoothed the snow in his hands. “It has to be round, you know. For aerodynamics.”

“Arthur, stop. This is a hundred and twenty five dollar coat, don’t do anything stu-“

He was interrupted by the snowball hitting him directly in the face.

“Of course, you can keep it lumpy, but then you’d miss your target,” Dietrich went on, finishing his lecture. He smiled at Harris, who was still shaking the snow out of his moustache.

“You’re dead,” he announced, collecting up a retaliatory snowball from the sidewalk, as Dietrich backed away, hands up in surrender.

“What if I promise to help you warm up?”