"BuhggnrBuhggnrBuhggnr," his voice came from the snow, muffled. He wasn't getting back up. At least, not right away. There was some side-to-side flailing of legs, trying to get the snow off him and a snow-angel-making similar method, but it got him nowhere. Finally, he pushes his upper body out, flakes still clinging to his dreadlocks and beard.

He does not look to be happy one bit. "Passion" was quickly losing its charm. He couldn't see Alice from where he was, but he did get a better view of the city. A very white city.

"Bugger," he says again, now unmuffled. He doesn't move from that position, no matter how cold he is. Getting up doesn't do him any good if he can't find a place to move and get warm again.