The cold air pierces straight through Eureka’s thin dress. They clench their teeth, inwardly scolding themself for not grabbing their coat on the way out. Audrey’s vines wrap around their arms in a makeshift shrug and Eureka hugs themself for warmth, Sal’s drink held protectively against their chest. It’ll help a bit for a short while: the oil inside her vines provides some heat as long as Eureka makes the conscious effort to circulate it through their own body.

They follow behind Sal, studying his gait and posture for signs of additional injuries. It does little to distract from the cold. When he comes to a stop and turns to check on them, Eureka’s already looking like a pathetic and withering little creature. Winter is not their season and, once again, they’ve put both of them in a bind by not thinking things through.

Eureka looks up at Sal and lets out a whine as they nod and shuffle closer to him. They turn around, expecting Sal to take care of them.