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Saying nothing, finding no reason to respond to someone interrupting my solitude, I simply stare at her.
"Very well," she says as she clasps her gloved hands together and sighs with a visible uprising of her chest. "This is about a man, isn't it?"
Having expected her to do something drastic rather than just play psychiatrist, I almost blink. I would have blinked, except that my eyelids are frozen open. It might take a good half a day for me to complete a full blink.
And if she expects me to speak, well, this enormous feat might take a few hours per syllable with how frozen shut my lips are. Even shaking or nodding my head will be a major chore I am in no condition to undertake.
I am the winter queen, the frozen hearted cast off incapable of feeling anything any longer, for good reason.
"Never trust a fox. Looks like a dog, behaves like a cat."
~ Erin Hunter