"See, told ya he was alive. Cold's no wee man to go down easy," Evan said aloud, flicking across a plane of ice. It was another minute or two before he realized he was being addressed. His face peered in through one slick of ice, his arm sticking out of another, waving.

"Awright Cold, fit like? Nae bad, myself, thenk ya, what's--" He drifted for a moment, squinting out at Cold. Evan did still have on his costume, which was ragged and fit loosely on some of his malnourished limbs. He didn't move out of the mirror yet, alert enough to be wary. "Awright Cold, ya need something?"