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Bebe and Wendy sat in the latter’s yard, sitting on mats above the snow while they made snow-castles (among snow-creatures and architecture).
“‘S so cold,” Bebe shivered, as she grabbed another handful of snow. “Why’s it always snowin’?”
Wendy shrugged. “You’re the one who chose to wear a tank top, hun.”
Bebe huffed, putting the snow around the castle, making a moat of sorts. “‘Cause then’m pretty.”
“You’re always pretty!” Wendy grinned, ruffling her hair. “You should be wearing coats more, though, or you’ll get sick.”
She heard the blonde mutter something, but didn’t pry on what she said. She just kept helping mold the castle. “Do you think it looks good?”
“Needs more.” Bebe shook her head. “‘S all plain.”
“Whatever you say,” the ravenette hummed.
“Weeendy,” Bebe whined, lightly hitting her fist against the snow. “I’s soooo cold, ‘m f’eeeezing.”
“I told you to wear a jacket before we went outside, didn’t I? Do you wanna go back in and grab one of mine?”
She shook her head, a slight pout on her face. “All’a your sweaters’re ugly,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “Only your purple one’s pretty!” She said, a mischevious grin growing on her face.
Wendy raised an eyebrow, narrowing her eyes at the girl. “..Thank you?”
“And I don’t wanna go back inside.”
“I know, but, you’re cold, and—“
“CanIhaveyoursweaterplease?”
Bebe giggled, leaning closer. “Please? I wanna look pretty, an’ ‘s gonna look bad if I don’t.”
Wendy wants to say something about loving yourself and what’s on the inside, but that’s probably way too complicated for the blonde and her headspace right now.
“..Okay. Alright, fine,” she muttered, taking her coat off and handing it to Bebe. “If I get sick, it's your fault.”
Bebe grinned, elbows on her knees and head in her hands. “But now 'm too pretty for you to be mad!”
Wendy sighed, rolling her eyes without much true annoyance. “Yes, dear, you're very pretty. And I won't be mad. But it'll still be your fault, okay?” She said with a teasing hint, tilting her head.
The blonde furrowed her eyebrows, as if she were actually thinking about it. “Okay.”
“You're fine with that?”
“Uh-huh. 'Cause I'm not gettin' sick.”
“Will you take care of me if I do get sick?”
Bebe blinked, staring at Wendy. “Umm.. Mhm. 'Think so.”
“You think?”
“Mmmmmmhm.”