Jerome was not prepared for an American winter. At all. The air was icy and felt as if it would directly cut through his skin, dividing him into little pieces of frozen pain. His face stung, and he perfectly understood now why the winter gear Oliver gave him consisted of so many items. Germany did have tough winters, at least he had thought of them as tough until the door of the mansion had been opened and he was buried in a wave of absolute devastating coldness which was commented with a surprised German swear word that just slipped over his lips automatically. If he hadn't already been convinced that he no longer was in Germany, he would be now. He had known beforehand that winters in America could be pretty cold, so he did not really question the massive amount of winter gear and just did put it on without commenting much on it, but knowing stuff and experiencing said stuff are absolutely different things. How could people live like that? It didn't help that he himself disliked winters anyway.
But like many other things right now, after having experienced his little shock and disbelief, it was sent to the center of his brain which still didn't want to accept that this was reality, thus taking every strange thing, even the weather, as just another reason to detach himself from the mansion, the city, the people, Oliver. He listened to his explanations, but he refused to take them in, refused to consider that these could be crucial information for his own future life, as the volcano his mind had been all the time, brewing and spitting, proceeded to chip away at his reasonability piece by piece. Sitting on the snowmobile, feeling the chilly wind on his face, feeling the cold-induced tears that were filling the corner of his eyes as the cold was practically biting them out of their sockets, he didn't see a town he had to get accustomed to. He only saw a frozen hell he had to get away from and getting the people stuck in here out.
His determination grew with every meter they left behind on the snowmobile, and he silently took in his surroundings without actually looking around much and letting his glance fixated at one point which, as they moved, changed rapidly. He saw cameras like in the house, which was not even a surprise at this point anymore, he saw run-down houses and an absolute absence of people, he saw no cars whatsoever and no life in general.
Basically, this looked like a ghost town straight from a video game. He slightly frowned when his mind compared this city to Silent Hill, which he only knew because his son was into horror stuff of all kind. He had watched him play games like this several times and was expecting to hear strange radio noises and the horrifying growling from disfigured monsters any point now. Christophe would definitely make a joke about stuff like this, even in a situation this severe. And he would smile at it.
He had to get back immediately. Christophe was alone with his sister now, for god knows how long already. With him gone, maybe Cilia would try it again, taking her own life, and Christopher was the the only relative left to take care of her. He would have to get custody to prevent her getting into a children's home or to foster parents and...
It was the first time his mind dared to wander this far into possible outcomes if he would have to stay here, and he took a heavy breath, his hands trembled and his heart beat in an anxious rhythm, releasing some of the despair being contained in his unstable mind volcano. Sitting on the snowmobile without the possibility to do anything but wait and watch completely destroyed his former effort of distraction, and the man in front of him seemed like a ghost.