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Thunder claps threateningly in the distance. A fork of lightning lights the sky up with a flash of white. Sabrina is beginning to get used to the pungent stink of the boy crouching in the dirt next to her.
He’s chewing on the drawstrings of his infamously filthy hoodie, it’s colour more brown now than the green it used to boast. His hair is stuck to his forehead with the rain, blonde tendrils no doubt infested with lice.
Sabrina’s teeth are chattering, her muddy person balled together to conserve body heat. Her long, blonde waves of hair whip up a frenzy around her pale face. Her eyes are a dull blue in the pitch black.
Puck burps, producing a stream of warm gas on Sabrina’s icy skin. “I hope you’ve thought this through.”
She glares at him with a deep sense of loathing. The numbness is spreading from her toes up her leg. “Sure I have. Mostly.”
He giggles, an odd and unexpected sound that gets swallowed in the storm. “We’re screwed, stinkpot.”
“Well—gasbag—you can either pretend to have faith in me, or fly away home like usual,” Sabrina stutters. Her eyes flutter shut and Puck wonders how long it would take for her lips to turn completely blue.
“Next time you arrange a stake-out, check the weather first, pissbrain,” Puck whispers, wrapping a tentative arm around Sabrina’s shoulders. She mutters something akin to a growl, causing him to laugh cruelly.
“I hate you.”
Puck wipes his runny nose on his hoodie with a wicked grin. “Feeling’s mutual, Grimm.”