[ To be fair, it's hard not to look like a walking bullseye. Especially in a bright orange parka. (Li has made the term Fashion Disaster into an art form.) In a fur-lined hood that shades half his face, clunky boots and shapeless gloves, he resembles an oversized kid trooping through the snow. A surfeit of winter sunrays beam down on him, turning the streets, white with a night's worth of fall, dazzlingly white. ]
[ Maybe that's why he doesn't see the stray snowball. Not until it's too late. ]
What the -- ?!
[ White powder bursts across his temple. His head whips around with an unnerving quickness, eyes narrowing out the culprit. ]
action; I AM SORREH c:
[ Maybe that's why he doesn't see the stray snowball. Not until it's too late. ]
What the -- ?!
[ White powder bursts across his temple. His head whips around with an unnerving quickness, eyes narrowing out the culprit. ]