Re: NYE: Cat & Reece
It was revenge. Maybe for his resurrection or his youth or his disappearance or whatever wound he opened by continuing to exist. But, either way, it was revenge. Reece earned double what he sowed, or that was his take on it anyway. She could've just gone with the face or the back, but no, Cat was greedy. (He was too. He would've done the same.) The cold stuck his inside shirt to his skin, and the icy snow scraped from his cheeks stung. But, Reece still looked nothing but pleased—and very, very drunk.
So, he fell, yes. He fell. It didn't seem to faze him even a little bit, though he smiled at Cat's laugh, as if he had performed some great and impressive trick to earn it.
He wobbled a bit over his store of snowballs, before he gave up on balancing on his feet and a low center of gravity, and went to his knees. Winter sunk into kneecaps and pants, but he didn't feel it. He was busy trying to hit the woman when he was seeing double or sextuple. As she came close, closer, her own drunkenness apparent, Reece looked up at her, as if he had forgotten what they were doing.—Oh, right. He smiled, picked up a snowball, hit her in the stomach (or tried), and sent another at her head. The force of his own throws were enough to dizzy him a little, so he had to take a break after that. He scooped snow in his palms and began working on more ammo.
"By the way, since you violated the rules and hit me in the fact, I win de facto." He looked up at Cat, and his expression said he thought he'd really outfoxed her.