It hasn't been a good night for his frost painting and when Jack loops back around a circuit he's already made he discovers that most of them are already in shambles and he's irrationally frustrated by that, especially the large piece he'd tried to do on the front of a shop window as a nice surprise for the kedan owners when they arrived in the morning. What had been graceful archs and whorls in a rather fetching symmetrical pattern were now saggy loops that looked like someone had sneezed them there rather than the hour he'd spent getting everything right.

He snatches a towel from a nearby line, leans his staff against the wall and stands on his toes to reach the top of the window, starts rubbing the ice off the glass so he can start again because he's Jack Frost and too stubborn to admit defeat in the face of a temperate climate, muttering all the while at it.

"Stupid warm weather... why can't the stupid turtle have an internal compass that points north..."