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Finn reveled in Ripley's sudden pain and discomfort in their topic of conversation. Absolutely reveled in it.

Of course then Fini had come along and ruined all the good times for him, but really what had he expected?

....Okay, what he hadn't expected was for her to tip him out of his ******** chair, especially when he was still very injured, so much so that he had been forced to use Ripley as a crutch to even get himself to the training field to begin with. There was a flash of something in his eyes, surprise, possibly, before he fell against the ground that had been not quite yet covered in snow, his body landing hard on it's right side, his injured arm taking the brunt of the fall, with pain shooting down from his shoulders straight to the tips of his fingers. He had wrapped his left arm around himself, had closed his eyes, had tried to at least cushion his fall, but it was still awful, and he gasped in a sharp breath, teeth then gritting before he burst out.

"You horrible b***h!" Because fine, she had visited him when he was unconscious. Great. None of that made up for the multitude of texts that he had sent, any of which she could have replied to at any point, to at least let him know that she was alive, or okay. Even if she had told him to ******** off then, it would have been enough. But no, he had to keep guessing, keep wondering what if, keep asking everybody who came to visit if he had ******** killed her.

But there wasn't time to say any of that before things went white and he changed. And she changed. And Ripley changed. She was laughing at him, and while the whole situation might have been funny, he found that he just could not share in the amusement, pushing himself up to a sitting position, glaring with a single coal eye, a million jokes about hard wood and pricks flashing through his mind in an instant....except none of them really worked.

"Nope, make that a prickly b***h. At least your bark is worse then your bite now." He complained, though honestly a lot of his anger had lost it's edge due to the ridiculousness of the situation, his glare even softening slightly.

Though he did at least notice he didn't hurt as much anymore. Probably due to no longer having muscles or internal organs to heal. That was nice, and made it a lot easier when he bent forward, reaching for Fini's stump...leg...thing, pushing on her to send her into the snow as well with an evil smirk.

He'd like to see her stand back up without any legs.

"Timmmmberrrrrrr~" He intoned.

Brilliant.

.....Wait Ripley wasn't supposed to fall down too!

Dakota is not sure this is the way he envisioned Candace...riding him.

The tree formerly known as Maebe stirred when someone tripped over her, but it wasn't until he spoke to see if she was real that she finally blinked open her ornament eyes, and stared with remarkable disinterest at the talking tree beside her.

"Hey." She muttered out sleepily, rolling over in the snow. "I guess they put the good stuff back in my painkiller bag, huh. Is this that dream where I have sex wih inanimate objects again? Because if so, I'm going to pass. No offense, talking tree. You look like you'd hurt."

She dropped her branch arm against his, and felt the sting of needles. Even in her dreams.

"Yep." She yawned out. "No dice."

"Finn, you p***k." Said the Ripley-esque tree. "She's going to kill you, you know that, right?" And at this rate, he wasn't going to stop her, even if he could. "Also, I think she's completely off the table now..." Even if she wasn't a christmas tree.

The tree he had landed on answered him, giving him something other than a brutal lover's spat to focus on. She sounded sleepy, and - something about pain meds?

"Again?" A recurring dream of having sex with inanimate objects? Interesting. "A little pent up, huh?" Before he could say much more she was already turning him down, which was a pity. He didn't even get a chance to offer! Though he'd have to ask how old she was, before he could make a potentially grave mistake. Her branch hit his, and he flinched at the feel of her needles.

"No offense taken. I'd rather not stick it to a tree either." Riptree snickered for a moment. "Though you are lovely, for an evergreen." He heaved a disappointed sigh and tried to get up, which was a little difficult. Okay, very difficult.

"Maybe when we're both softer." When having wood didn't mean being covered in bark and ornaments.

"Well, when we're back to normal, and you're up for it, I will be too." Because why not. Though his offer surprised himself, really; he'd never been this type of person, but then again, he wasn't really a person right now either. So he just blamed Finn for this. Finn and his stupid teasing about cradle robbing...

"Hrm. Not like we can put layers on to warm up..." Which meant this whole situation was worse than he initially thought. He hadn't considered getting a cold because of this. "Can you stand? I can try and help you back inside if you want." There was a small pause. "Though I have to also help a p***k of a snowman, too." Fair warning, that's all she was going to get on that subject.

"Ripley Crowell. Death Trainee. And you are?" He introduced himself, tapping one of his branches to hers in hopes it was a handshake. "And some idiot from Sun pressed a button, that's all I know."

Jack honestly didn't know what to say at first. The ice cream had been a rare pleasure, and for once he was actually happy to take advantage of something like it. But while he had dodged the experimental types he was yet unaware of, he was sadly not immune to The Christmas Spirit.

"The ********> In the blink of an eye he had gone from hunter to . . . a snowman?

Looks like he didn't have to have hound around for sex today because he had just become an unwilling part of the threesome that was ******** physics and natural world order.

Stunned, Jack could only stare for a while until his hyper-logical mind finally adopted a little space for the madness occurring around him. Okay. So. Snowmen, living gingerbread people, reindeer, elves, and snow angels. At least the chaos was limited to those species. He caught himself staring at Stormy's back as she tried to flap her new wings, positively delighted instead of mortally afraid that a little fire could literally kill her.

Still, it was nice to see that even in the random situation they complimented each other.

He had half a mind to go over and bother her when he saw Abbi who, appropriately, was a cookie at the moment. He strode over (trying to understand how it was his flesh and hair had literally become snow) and crouched down to see her properly. "How's the weather down there?" he joked, having to tilt his head to look past his carrot nose (he was starting to wonder how he was breathing, honestly).

At the sound of Chel's voice, he tugged his hat further over his head and pretended to be a mound of snow on the ground. That had clothes on. Blending into the scenery.

AyeAvast

chimarii

Some of the snow fell from Ian’s head and onto his chair and normally snow wasn’t an issue, but as he was suddenly no longer regular human sized, he scooted as fast as he could to avoid the falling lumps, a difficult task when still wrapped in bandages.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, about to warn Ian about the dangers of potential avalanche damage when a familiar voice popped up, though it was slightly more glowing than usual. He wiggled his jingly toes, staring at the newcomer.

“Is it really? Quinn? Quinn, did you uh… Get into some eggnog or something, buddy?”

Quinn wasn’t so forthcoming usually, and it was strange seeing him so chipper. It was even stranger, of course, to see him as a deer. Then, remembering what Quinn had said, he quickly moved his hands up to his ears, eager to see if they were, in fact, pointy.

They were.

“Well, this is swell,” he laughed with a shake of his head. “A snow angel, a reindeer, and I gather that I’m some sort of Christmas elf. What a trio we make. Can you even walk, Ian?”

Quinn was acting strangely chipper, which was throwing Ian off. He shuffled forward a few steps, leaving a path of thick, fluffy white snow behind him and knelt to pat the top of Quinn's smooth head, tugging at one of his ears.

"I'm always pretty," he said grandly, and then slid Shiloh a smile and a wink. "And sort of. Not very well, though."

With great effort (and a lot of cold), Ian stooped beside the wheelchair again, his wings dripping with an icy wetness. "Well," he said to the pair of them. "I've gotta say...this isn't quite how I expected this morning to go, but hey, I'll take it."