Going Down: Mickey and James
"That's kind of you to say," James chuckled. He unclipped his own boots from the skis and picked them up, along with his poles, snapping them together. "But skiing is not my sport. Ski lessons were like piano lessons as I was growing up. Expected."
"With marshmallows it is. And don't worry, I like hot chocolate just fine, even if it's not my favorite beverage." Giving out a small shrug with a sign of a pout that was meant in jest, James headed towards the hot drinks bar not far from the slopes.
"You're a natural athlete, I dare say. Is it part of your... heritage? Or is it due to practice?" He asked conversationally as they walked through the snow. He didn't need to carelessly throw out words like vampire or djinni in the public place.