Quentin was used to the cold. At least, he'd dealt with things that were incredibly cold before. Much, much colder than here and now. He'd been naked, traveling for miles in Antarctica. This was nothing in comparison. Well, not entirely nothing, but his time at Brakebills South had prepared him for just this.
Quentin arrived with all the necessary tools and supplies that he'd need to melt the ice. He was wearing his warmest clothes, and sporting a page cap. (It didn't really suit him.) He grinned over at the young boy.