Prosper would have burst into laughter at the picture before him had he not been absolutely positive that said action would earn him a snowball to the face. Blaire was sitting on bright yellow sled , bundled up in at least fifty layers, wearing the expression of a five year old recently given an ice cream cone. The sled, in turn, was poised at the top of a large, rather daunting looking hill, and Blaire was attempting to convince him to go sledding with her.

"Pleeeeease!" She continued, adopting a pout onto her formerly excited face.

"I'm wearing sweatpants," He pointed out, "Cloth sweatpants."

"Oh, suck it up, you baby," Blaire countered, which impressed Prosper quite a bit, since it usually took a lot more for her to start insulting him.

"What, and walk two miles home in soaking wet britches?" He questioned, "I'll pass on that."

"Fine." She said, sulking, "then at least help me up." She held out a hand to him, which Prosper was a little reluctant to take, since Blaire relenting in so quick a fashion usually foreshadowed some mischeviousness on Blaire's part. However, thinking her sincere enough, he stepped forward and grasped her hand, beginning to pull her up, when she suddenly gave his hand a sharp yank, sending him sprawling onto the front of the sled. The movement tipped the teetering sled forward, sending the two of them flying down the hill.

There was snow flying into Prosper's face, and he could barely hear anything with the wind rushing by them both, so he blindly stuck out a foot, hoping it would slow them down a little. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect, sending them both somersaulting off the board and down the hill.

When Prosper finally came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, he had a brief moment of peace before Blaire came hurtling down towards him, driving her elbow into his stomach and smacking her forehead into his shoulder. Groaning, he sat up after a few moments, gently pulling her up with him. It took him a moment to realize that he should be angry with her, although the wetness soaking through his clothes soon reminded him of that. Hoping his stomach really wasn't as bruised, or destroyed, as it felt, he decided that giving Blaire his iciest glare would have to be sufficient punishment.

This method was quickly abandoned when he saw the smug smile on Blaire's face.

Clearly, harsher justice had to be served. Letting her see the slow grin spreading across his face, her own cheeky smile began to falter, as she began inching away from him. There was a small, tense moment, and then Blaire sprang up from the ground and began sprinting up the hill, the sled laying forgotten behind her. In a flurry of motion, Prosper jumped up from the ground and began chasing after her.

Prosper wondered idly if she intended to run the whole two miles back to her apartment. Not, he thought with a cocky attitude, that she would make it that far anyways. Catching up with her midway up the hill, Prosper grabbed her around the waist and lifted her over his shoulder, ignoring her breathless shrieks of laughter.

Walking up the hill determinedly with Blaire still squirming in his grasp, he had almost made it to the top when Blaire flicked his ear and reminded him, still giggling, that the sled was still at the bottom. Once they had got to the bottom, they found that the sled was a perfect place to sit, albeit the view before them was not anything especially stunning- just consisting of teenagers and children either making snowmen or engaging each other in a snow ball fight. They sat there for a few minutes peacefully, before the silence was broken by Prosper.

"You're still not forgiven, you know," He said, "Shoving snow in your face is sounding very tempting right now."

"Ah, but you see, that would make doing this rather difficult," She said, leaning in and kissing him quickly.

"That's quite true," He murmured, moving forward to kiss her again when a pointed cough from beside them made them look over. An old lady was there with two young children, who were both staring at them avidly. The old lady's expression could only be described as piercing, and very much dissaproving.

"Er...sorry, ma'am," Prosper said, trying and failing to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching. Blaire seemed to have no such quarrel, since she was currently laughing silently into his shoulder.

Grabbing Blaire's hand and pulling her up, they both quite cheerfully ran up the hill in the direction of Blaire's apartment, Blaire already asking Prosper if he knew if there was any more hot chocolate left in her house.