They end up calling 911. After walking through the location and the cut, the operators tell Maverick and Galilee that the steri strips will do fine for the next few days. The snow is too intense; a helicopter wouldn't even be able to pick them up. Fortunately, it is Galilee's non-dominant hand. It looked like more blood than it was because of the water. She's okay.

The others are not nearly as good.

Benedict, after taking an hour-long cold shower to get his body under his own control again, is more serious about going outside. With the help of Ro, he gets into a lounge on the first floor. Marcellus tags along. He unscrews the stopped on the window so that it opens fully. There is more than enough space to climb through, if not for the screen.

Ro brought a knife up from the staff kitchen. She tries to pass it to Marcellus, but his hands don't take it.

She rolls her eyes, "whatever, chicken shit."

Then, she begins to cut out the screen door. The activity is more laborious than she thought it would be. Dinner has come and gone, and its dark outside now. Benedict has already brought up flashlights. They have enough for all of them, plus two extras; one for the resident assistant who should be working half of Darlington's floor, and the other for the super who has already fled town.

"How's Callie?" Benedict swallows.

Ro shrugs, "I saw her half an hour ago. She's fine."

"Did you asked her why she freaked?" Marcellus swallows. He is trying not to fiddle with his screwdriver.

"No," Ro's voice is dull. "Didn't think it was appropriate to ask why seeing an unconscious friend made her have a panic attack."

"The operator told Maverick that Galilee only passed out from the sight of blood," Marcellus shrugs.

Benedict hopes they shut up about the whole thing. Galilee is fine. He'd rather not anyone call him dramatic for finding an unconscious coworker on the floor and then panicking, whether or not she was fine, or in danger, or whatever. To help himself ignore them, he starts to send out the same text to everyone.

Hey. Come to the 1W lounge, with your coat, boots, gloves and snowpants if you have them. It's non-negotiable.

He even sends the same message to Galilee. It's non-negotiable for her too.

Everyone begins to make their way to the lounge of 1 West. Most of them are hanging out together in the staff lounge at the time, so they separate to get their stuff from their rooms. Jerry accompanies Galilee since they live on the same floor. Maverick and Tempest laugh as they grab their stuff, both in the mood to at least feel something other than the anxious pulls of the day. It takes two texts to coax Callie and Moonie out of their rooms, three for Elodie, but soon enough the eleven resident assistants of Pearcher House are gathered in Ro's communal lounge, staring at the window.

"Okay, so the snow is over three feet deep," Benedict warns everyone as he passes out the flashlights. "Do not push anyone down into it, even as a joke. Don't decide to be funny and try to hide in it. Don't be stupid."

"He's talking to you, Jerry," Ro tries to hide her smirk.

Jerry smiles, "if the super shows up, I make no promises."

"I was actually talking to you, Ro," Benedict cuts in, his voice dead serious. He sighs, "but also Jerry. Really, I'm talking to anyone who is going to push anyone under."

Galilee smiles next to Jerry. He seems happy lately, so at least someone is, she thinks.

Across the room, Callie turns her head. It's hard to look at Galilee without seeing her on the ground again. The image is stuck in her head. She's always been such a visual person.

In between them both, Darlington is fiddling with his flashlight. After turning it on and off twice, he is a bit satisfied. He wonders how long it would take to move through this much snow. He's one of the few wearing snowpants, since his father likes to go skiing sometimes during the holidays. Perhaps he could make it to Burns Hall and escape this all. It cannot be more than a mile from where he stands. Surely, it would only take a few hours.

"Moonie, you've still got hot chocolate?" Tempest asks.

With a soft smile, Moonie nods. They have no milk, so the hot chocolate won't be great, but it will be something. Besides, it's nice to be acknowledged by Tempest. She is so strong-willed, so soft spoken, so many things Moonie thinks are beautiful. Moonie couldn't be Tempest if they tried. Unlike Tempest, Moonie made a mistake last night. Tempest would never be so silly as to mess up love like that.

"Are we good to go?" Elodie is done listening to everyone meander about. When Benedict nods, she's up on her feet. She pulls herself into a sitting position on the windowsill. From there, she throws her feet over the edge. The window isn't that high, and her dangling feet already dig into the snow. So, she plops down.

Elodie wouldn't consider herself that short. She was shorter than every guy on their staff team, including Benedict who is shorter than Callie and Ro. Moonie is just shy of five feet tall anyway, and Elodie has several inches on her. Yet, in the snow, it doesn't seem to matter. The white stuff, perfect packing snow, hits above her waist. It's still snowing too, but it's calmed down.

"Holy shit, it's fucking cold," Elodie manages. Her breath is thick in the air. She shuffles forward, moving out of the way of the others.

They begin to pile out the window. Jerry has to resist the urge to put Galilee in. She'd surely disappear, since the only person shorter than her is Moonie. Callie's teeth start chattering loudly once she's in. Darlington gets out and shines his flashlight in everyone's faces to make sure they are okay.

"Turn that the fuck off," Ro shouts at him. Without the wind, her voice is loud.

Last through the window, Benedict hops down. He can feel himself shaking in the snow. It's like the cold of the shower, and even more refreshing. Everyone is beginning to wear down the snow at the window, but it gets deeper when he pushes out. The snow mostly packs down beneath him.

While Ro would never admit it, she is practically giddy with excitement. Already, she is starting to make a snowman. It's too deep for snow angels, she thinks, but she's never made a snowman. It's so exciting.

Darlington can't help but jump in. He hasn't made snowmen with anyone since he was a boy. At private school, the children couldn't play outside without ruining their uniforms. At home, his Mom would make them with him. Since her death, over ten years ago, he kept building. His father never joined in.

"We should've brought carrots," Darlington manages.

"I have a knife, we could make the hilt the nose," Ro offers, still working on her ball.

While they work, Galilee pulls out her camera. The picture quality is going to be terrible, with the snow only lit by their flashlights, but that's part of the charm anyway. She snaps the picture and shoves the camera into his pocket.

Maverick is big enough that the snow doesn't hit his hips. He's well over six feet tall anyway. He watches Moonie who is wading through the snow which hits their ribs. They almost always wear their hair up, but it's so long that it hits the snow beneath their beanie.

Smiling, he begins to make a snow ball. He tosses it in her direction, purposefully missing. She sees it whizz by her and turns her head.

There Maverick is, smiling to himself. He is too good, she thinks. He is too perfect.

Callie is next to her. She's been trying to steal Moonie for a moment, if just to talk. Callie is good at telling when something is strange, even when she herself is strange. She isn't paying attention to Moonie's glances. The snow is so soft. It's a cold hug around her, and kisses hitting her nose and cheeks. Callie looks up, sticking her tongue out, her eyes shut but her arms embraced up.

She hears the snap of Galilee's camera. Both Moonie and Callie turn their heads. Galilee is just putting it away.

"Sorry," Galilee manages, her cheeks red. "Just the way the snow was in your hair, Moonie... and you Callie... well you always..."

Galilee forces herself to turn her head, unable to properly continued without humiliating herself.

Marcellus and Jerry are having a competition which Elodie is watching. They are trying to see who can hit the highest brick on their building. Jerry is barely beating Marcellus.

"Aren't you supposed to be a mechanical engineer or something?" Elodie asks over their shoulders.

"I'd like to see you try," Marcellus throws a snowball.

Elodie snipes his snowball out of the air with one of her own. It surely would've gone higher than Jerry's, Marcellus thinks. He turns his head to look at Elodie. She winks at him. He rolls his eyes.

Benedict has his back to the wall, watching them all on. Tempest has made her way over to him. She doesn't have snowpants, but she is wearing four layers, including tights, leggings, jeans, and sweatpants. It's still cold.

"This was really nice," Tempest tells him, her voice quiet.

He taps his gloved knuckles against the wall, watching everyone. Marcellus, Jerry, and Elodie have started a full-on snow war. Maverick has moved over to help with the snowman. He's trying to use the change in his pockets to plan out a face while Ro and Darlington are still building the torso. Callie and Moonie are giggling, since they keep slipping with every step. Galilee's taken to shining the flashlight herself, holding the handle with her chin, and taking photos with her good hand.

"Yeah, I guess," Benedict shrugs. He looks over at Tempest. She has tired eyes. "I've noticed... well, you know you can talk to one of us. Me, even."

She presses her lips together. It's not likely that he knows exactly what is up, but he knows something, and already that feels like too much.

"Thank you," she offers. "Same goes. I know you saw... you just, you didn't talk much once Jerry and I found you."

Benedict looks over at Galilee. She's smiling.

"Just, out of the fishbowl into the inferno, I guess," Benedict shrugs.

Tempest chuckles a bit, trying to stop herself, "you're telling me."

"It's hard to live where you work," Benedict manages.

"Yeah," Tempest agrees. She hasn't quite felt it herself, but it's something she's heard enough from some of the coworkers. She notices it in Darlington, even if he hasn't said it. It's clear from the way Galilee carries herself, and from how anxious Marcellus has been in the building these past few weeks. "You can't leave the work at work when it's under your roof."

"Tempest?"

The pair are distracted by Maverick wandering over. He makes it look like the snow is really easy. He's still shifting through his change, "do you have an extra dime?"

Tempest begins to shift through the pockets of her coat, knowing nothing is there.

"Now!" Ro shouts.

Soon enough, the group has turned on Tempest and Benedict. Maverick is in the cross fires as they get pelted with snow balls. Tempest shrieks, and Maverick jokingly protects her with his broad body. Benedict is sputtering.

It's a full out war once Jerry turns on Ro. It's impossible to escape the carnage, nearly as impossible as it is to go home for the holidays. Tomorrow it will be the twenty-third of December. If the snow lets up like it is now, maybe someone's rich father will send in a helicopter to take care of them. Maybe someone's parents who live nearby will come with sled dogs and snowshoes. Maybe someone whose parents live far away will cross seasons to come and save them.

More likely than not though, they will not be rescued before they have to go back inside. No one else will witness the way Darlington steals Tempest from Maverick to use as a human shield, or the way Marcellus and Galilee team up to shove snow down the back of Jerry's snowpants. No one will see the way the flashlights, left haphazardly in the snow, shine against the falling snow and make the entire room look like a disco ball. Galilee's photos couldn't even do it justice. Benedict is too busy teaming up with Elodie as the resident assistants of the fifth floor to see any of it. Ro is too busy defending the snowman from Moonie and Callie's attempts at throwing snow into it.

As Darlington pins her in front of him, and she giggles and struggles, Tempest thinks that maybe Darlington has it right. Keeping busy is best practice.

~~~~~

Mwahaha. This evil update rivals the last! In all seriousness, my computer broke so I'm making due, so forgive any mistakes. I've been calling these last few days "the highs and lows of baseball" (combining the phrases "there's no crying in baseball" and "the highs and lows of highschool football"). Really, it should be the highs and lows of a snowball fight. I've already asked, but what is your favourite snowtime activity! If I were out there, I would try to find a way to tobaggan.