Something pulls upturn at the corner of Jack's mouth at the word. "You don't have to lie while you're here," he replies. "That kind of defeats the purpose."

Then he goes out, treading light across the snow. The snowflakes are still coming down thick and steady and he's asked the Wind to keep things quiet so barely a breath disturbs the fall, giving the skeletal buildings an odd peace as they're slowly coated heavier with already a foot of the snow on the ground.

Jack stops only to use his staff and guide a few gentle drifts to arch against the side of the house, providing further insulation to keep the heat from the fire from escaping then disappears down the paths of what were once streets, even the blue of his sweatshirt being quickly whited away.