Honey Springfield was called the Handlers 'favourite' - a nickname she despised right down to the bones of her very existence - almost as much as she despised the woman herself. No one ever looked closer enough to realise that it was given to her fo...
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Some of Honey's favourite jobs were the ones in the colder countries. Especially ones with snow, like in Scotland, the year 1763.
They were staying in more of a shack out in the middle of farmers fields; this one in particular was abandoned, too far away from wildlife and any major rocky road leading into town for resources. Which made it equally as difficult as it was perfect for them to occupy for a couple of days.
The soft golden glow of a lantern was outside, sheltered by a dipping part of the roof to keep it aflame, and all evening as the winds grew harsher she had been eyeing it from one of the rickety windows.
"I'm going outside." She finally announced.
He knew it was coming, he was just wondering when.
She had made a couple comments about how pretty the snow was and on the drive there, he had never seen her so silent, staring at the snowflakes falling across the stark white fields.
Even with her bundled up in a thick coat and thick winter boots, the ground was harsh and icy and they only had a makeshift log burner for a heat source. (And she absolutely refused to put a scarf on for some reason.)
He asked her why she wants to leave the shack, because it was freezing.
"I don't care. It's snowing." She responded simply.
Five spared a glance at her from the chair in the corner, legs kicked up and an old book in one hand. He turned a page idly. "Really? I hadn't noticed."
Honey glanced out the window beside him, peeking through the curtain. The snowfall was making her giddy. "I'm going."
"If you slip over and break your neck or catch hypothermia I'm not coming out to save you."
"Charming."
"Are you seriously going out there?" He asked, doubtful, looking up from his book as she heaved open the rickety door and howling winds threw some of her hair over her shoulder.
"Yes." She narrowd her eyes over her shoulder. "Don't sound so appalled, I wasn't asking you to come with me."
He arched an eyebrow, eyes dancing with amusement. The light from the lantern on the wall above him lit up his face. "Then why are you still here and not out there?"
Honey paid him no mind and exited into the dismal wasteland.
She ended up walking slowly around the small farmhouse, hands in her pockets, mouth and nose tucked into her collar as the snow lightened ever so slightly. Her body was already frozen to the bone but the sight of the land coated in untouched snow made her want to smile. The sight itself gave it's own warmth.
After a few minutes of watching her from the window to, you know, check she hadn't indeed fallen and broken something - she caught his eye and waved idly. He glanced down back at his book, ignoring her when something hit the window right next to him and he jumped in place - nearly dropping his book from his lap.
