Sailor Bacchus had been excited when he first encountered snow in this city. He really had. One would think that it would be more appreciative of his enthusiasm, but no. It still cut him, and made him stupidly itchy, and now it had him stuck in a mass of sticky bullshit. Weird, sweet, sticky bullshit. The grabby ******** was probably related to that muddy a*****e that had trapped him a few months earlier. Maybe they were stupid cousins. Stupid sticky cousins and no amount of squirming and attempting to pull himself out helped him make any progress. If anything, it made the situation worse.

“GODSDAMMIT!”

Stupid ******** snow. Stupid ******** city.

As the bullshit began to envelope his newly healed arm, he felt the panic rise in him.

Kallysto