"Ow?" Adam said, then turned his head to see the owner of the offending foot. "Berg. Where are your manners? You can't just run around kicking people for no good reason. You might hurt them." He inhaled deeply from his cigarette and blew a series of smoke rings in the general direction of her face, which was hovering about five feet above him. He'd show her rude.
He waved his hand about absently. "Oh, I'm imperviated. No worries about my frostbite. Misha's the only one who'd miss the bits I'd lose anyway. What are you doing out here, anyway? You're encroaching on my private laying-in-the-snow-sulking-and-smoking time, which I don't actually appreciate."