Jane, huddled beneath her winter coat and staring down at a small, obviously hand-crafted notebook, is oblivious. She needs to take an expedition south, she thinks, just to have a stouter data set, but that brings with it all kinds of problems because she probably shouldn't go alone and—

She halts, blinking as the snowball slides down the back of her coat. "...ow," she says, although it's mostly on principle — It hadn't hurt that much, but she expects when she turns around, she's going to see a boyish God of Thunder crouched behind a snowbank. The man is like a 6'3" puppy: He has no boundaries, even for his ex.

Mouth open, she falters at the sight of Betty, and then pushes out a relieved sigh. "Is it weird to say I'm glad it's you when we don't really know each other? Because I'm glad it's you."