sirius leans lazily against the edge of a vendor’s stall , the sharp scent of evergreen and roasted chestnuts mingling with the faint bite of snow yet to fall . his hands , clad in worn leather gloves , toy idly with the hem of his scarf — black wool with silver threads glinting faintly under the market’s flickering fairy lights . he tugs it loose, letting the chill nip at his neck as if daring the cold to faze him . " careful ---- " he drawls to no one in particular , though his eyes land on the closest figure debating the list of refreshments . " the mulled wine is especially strong this year . "
