did not miss the snow. At all. He'd rather still be shooting in the blistering heat than snow, because... well, he has his reasons.

Regardless, he's here now, knocking on the door and freezing his ass off despite the million layers of clothing he has on.

goes to the door and opens it, letting his bundled up icicle of a brother into the house. He doesn't really understand what Alfred has

against snow and cold... It's better than melting in the heat, right? Somehow he thinks Alfred would certainly disagree. "Hey Al!" He opens

the door a bit wider in order to let him pass.

would take melting in the heat any day. Besides, have you ever heard of going to the beach in the snow? Nope! The heat is infinitely more

awesome. He huffs at the opening of the door, pushing past his brother and going on a mad search for the heater... where he then plops down

in front of it and holds his hands over it. "Okay, now we're good."

would take the freezing snow. Because you can bundle up to get warm, but all you can do with heat is deal with it. He watches his brother

hurry past him. "Wow. It's not that cold out there, is it?" He asks, blinking and sticking his head out the door before stepping back and

closing it. "Maybe you should wear thicker jackets?" He offers, walking after his brother.

refuses to budge on his opinion. Nope. Heat is better. "Uh... have ya' been outside?" he retorts, before rubbing his hands together in an

attempt to faster heat up his skin. He still refuses to take off his coats, though, despite him slowly warming up. "And dude, I'm wearin'

like three right now, so no, I'm good." Now he takes off his socks and hovers them near the heater. "So how ya' been, dude?"

nods. "Yes, I've been outside. And I don't think it's that cold... Maybe a little, I guess. But not as bad as you're making it out to be.

" He looks around. "Hmm... You want me to turn up the heat?" Reaching up, he peers at the thermostat, fingering it gently. He blinks, "Eh?

I've been alright. You?" He leans back on his heels again.

"Ya' don't secretly have blubber for skin, do ya' bro?" That would explain why his brother always seems to be oblivious to the cold. He

nods at the question to the heater, before he cracks his knuckles and his neck when he feels them cramp up. He huffs a little; it feels like

he's an old man with athritis. "Pretty good, actually! Still tryin' ta' get used ta' not dodgin' bombs and explodin' shit." He laughs.

"Ya' better have some good shootin' games, bro."

shakes his head. "As far as I know- no. But you know, after a while, the cold isn't so bad... You just have to get used to it." He explains,

getting back up on his toes to adjust the thermostat, making it a couple degrees warmer. His head raises a bit more intently at the mention

of Al's little... Uh... 'poof-time'? He'll just call it that for now. "Huh. That's good? I'm glad you're okay." Blinking, he shakes his head

, "You know what games I have Al! Most of them came from your house." He crosses over to the living room, bringing out a small stack of

video-game disks in covers.

his brother totally ruins his fun, but he's going to send a few doctors over to make sure he really doesn't have blubber for skin. He sighs

contentedly at the raised temperature, feeling himself thaw more and more with each passing second. "Mhm. I'm okay. The majority of me,

anyway. And that's to be expected, ain't it? I am the hero, after all!" He sits up straighter at the mention of games, nodding. "Well, set

'er up then!"

doubts that any doctor who isn't completely insane would ever check someone for blubber skin. Sorting through the games, he picks out all of

multiplayer shooter ones and puts them off to the side in a pile. "Better than when you left?" He asks, thoigh based on how Alfred is acting

more like himself, yes would be a safe bet. He hands the pile of games to Al, "Choose which one you want to play." He turns back to the TV,

hooking up the game system, fishing out two controllers, and starts it up.

that someone underestimates his capability to find basically anything and everything, and will surprise said someone one day when he finds

a doctor that will be able to do just that! Making himself more comfortable with each passing second, he nods happily at the question;

wasn't that much obvious? "I feel like a new man, bro! There really ain't nothin' like the threat of bein' shot in your next step ta' help a

guy get back ta' normal! I recommend it, dude." He strains forward, flicking through the mass piles of games (he still has more), and

finally settles on one, waving it. "Vanguard, dude. Medal of Honour. Right now. We're doin' this."

that he would probably freak out if a doctor came to his house to inspect his skin for blubber... And then send America some very angry

but sort of quiet voice-messages. He looks a bit confusedly at his brother. "Aha, no thanks. If I feel depressed I think I'm just going to

stick with ice cream, movies, and hockey..." He mumbles, never really understanding what drew his brother to wanting to be shot at. He

takes a good look of the video-game Alfred's picked out, shrugging. "Alright. Put it in then." Grabbing a controller, he makes his way to

(at not of) the couch, taking a seat.

it would actually be kind of cool... and he'll document the whole thing, too! Oh... you mean like those messages that made him think

his phone was haunted? Pft! He also thinks his brother's ways are boring and way too old school, and he waves his hand dismissively.

"But, I mean... there's no adrenaline there, ya' know? What's the fastest way ta' forget somethin' that bein' completely distracted in a

life or death situation?" He grabs his own controller, blasting the volume on high. "Dude, can ya' make some pancakes? 8D"