Damien's eyes lit up then, the gears in his mind were turning again. But then again.. they were always turning. "Scrapbook," he said, as though remembering something important. "That's what you need, a scrap book. Just for you. And a big one, so you can have lots of pictures stored in it. Pictures of me, you, us, places, your sisters.. everything." He paused as he playfully toyed with a couple snowballs in his hands. "Aside from London when I was a kid, as well as Chicago and Wisconsin where I grew up? I've been to France. Hong Kong. And Ireland. Oh.. speaking of Ireland, you should go to their pubs. They make a good Irish Carbomb drink. I should warn you, best way to drink that is very quickly and completely. Otherwise it's not as good."
He smirked up, a mock defiant look on his face. "I guess we'll see. Make your move." And indeed she did. He was surprised as a pile of snowballs were dropped on him, crumbling into snow as he felt them make contact, over his head, neck, and shoulders. He felt a bit wet on the neck from it. Then he looked up at her in shock, then what seemed to be confusion.. and a smile? He was quite impressed. And then he was laughing along with her. "Okay, I'll give you that one. You're good. Or bad? Either wa6y, wonderfully done. Almost puts me in the mood for a ride." He extended his hand as a gesture of asking for help to get up. Though he was thinking yet again; he could either get up with her help, or play a joke and pull her to the snow with him. It was all in fun, though. But he was also thinking about how fun it will be to ride on the streets, nothing but them and the wind..