For someone that drank as happily and frequently as Gemma did, she was rubbish at handling hangovers. She couldn't even remember what she'd had to drink the night before, or what had happened, but she felt like hell. She rolled over in her wide bed, cracking open one eye to look at the weather, and then she sat up.
"Snow," she murmured, as if she had to confirm it aloud for it to be real, and she got out of bed to go to the window, smiling as she touched the cold glass. "Hi, snow..."
Groggy, definitely, and with a peculiar weak shaking at her joints, and she felt as if someone had cheerfully chucked her down a flight of stairs--what the fuck had they all been up to last night for her to feel like this? She looked around and stripped one of the heavier blankets off of her bed, wrapping it around her; she'd only gone to bed in a t-shirt and her underwear. Even the floor was chilly. If they could get down to Cassi's, maybe she'd look for some slippers...
She'd been watching the snow fall for a few minutes, leaning against the window frame and snuggled up in her blanket, when she heard the knock at the door. Probably Erran, up and around, wanting to know if she'd seen the snow yet--he'd think like that, that she'd never seen real snow before. It made her smile as she went to the door, and she smiled even wider when she saw him, that happy-birthday smile.
"Morning, you," she murmured, and reached out to kiss him, chaste and light.