[ The snowball pegs him in the back, splattering over his dark winter coat. Oh hell naw... Dropping, Desmond scoops snow as he runs, flinging one round back in the direction of the first, not really aiming, while he goes for cover behind a hastily made snow fort, ringed with the local kids that shanghaied him into helping in the first place. As we all know, grown-ups make the best slave labor in a snowball war. ]
Come to me, my beauty :U