Farrah's Bold Escape from the Cold [Farrah & Kouta]

The winter months were upon Musutafu, with snow falling periodically and the whole town beginning to, as they say, look a lot like Christmas. This was one of Farrah's favorite times of year, on account of the singing, the festivities, the gift-giving, the decorations, and really, just about everything. The one thing she wasn't especially good with, having come from California in the states: the cold. One might think that with her signature top-coat and the rainbow-colored scarf she always donned, she'd be perfectly geared up for the weather, but there was a critical hole in her defenses: her hands.

As a habitual drummer, Farrah felt the need to keep her hands uncovered at all times and her bongos looped into her belt, just in case she got the urge for an impromptu jam session or a poetry slam. While ordinarily, this ranged from a fun idea to a nuisance of one, it was especially ill-timed for the winter months, because it meant that her hands were always cold. The best she could do was either tuck them under her arms or into her own scarf, but the latter was really made for fashion more than heat. As a result, Farrah always, always had cold hands during the snowfall, which stung worse and worse the more she attempted to spread joy with her drums.

Some might call this a labor of love. Others, foolishness. Either way, it was a constant, and at this point of time, between random training and her increasingly intense hero training as of late, Farrah felt like the stinging was becoming a bit much. As she passed by a mall-Santa in the shopping district, waving at him, he couldn't help but remark that she ought to wear some gloves. "Oh, I'm just feeling the love of Jack Frost's kiss! To wear down a hero will take more than this!" she reassured him. The old man returned a look of confusion, barely understanding the rhyme and certainly not finding himself fooled by it. 

At this point, an ordinary person would probably think: "gee, I've been pushing it too hard, I really ought to pop in somewhere and buy some gloves." Farrah was no ordinary person, and thus, instead, she found herself staring at the other mall-goers. There were plenty of people holding each other's hands... should she find someone else to hold hands with, for warmth? No, even she realized that was a bit too intimate. Instead, Farrah decided to do what any rational person would do: she looked for the most bundled up, cozy looking person she could find, then began a dancing spin towards them while their back was turned to her.

Once she achieved ideal range, Farrah thrust her hands out under the unsuspecting stranger's scarf. Feeling immediately a profound sense of relief, as if she'd just entered a warm kotatsu, Farrah did what anyone enjoying a kotatsu would do and enveloped herself more fully, grabbing the stranger in a hug around the neck. The stranger might think they were being attacked by some kind of hoodlum or choked out by some kind of maniac, if it weren't for the gentleness of the gesture. The softness pressing against the stranger's back may or may not be wanted, depending on their preferences.

"Sorry, my friend! A port in a storm! But I simply had to find something to keep my hands warm. Thank you so much for lending me shelter, the poetess cries, as the winter weather pelts her!" Farrah introduced herself, in a manner. "Farrah di Prima, and boy, was I cold! May I ask your name; may I be so bold?" She wasn't entirely sure if she'd grabbed a guy or a girl, but the shock of pink hair she saw from behind certainly stood out from the rest of the crowd. The stranger was a little shorter than she... she contemplated in one corner of her mind whether it was less weird for her to grab an unknown child in this manner, or an adult.

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WC 681