[i]Behind him, two soft flames slowly lofted to the ground, emanating from two black boots. Upon the melted snow stood another man, clad in a crimson jacket, which somehow protected him against the freezing temperatures. In the flurry of snow, not much of him could be seen, but for the shining blue radiating from his palms, his boots, and his right eye. Michael Drake's unmistakeable voice cut through the sharp wind like paper,[/i] "Sawyer, couldn't we have done this during the Summer?"