"'Tis not a night fit for man nor beast," he quoted, frowning at the frosted-over window and blowing smoke from his Duke out the side of his mouth. He heaved a deliberately audible sigh when he received no answer and took another puff, finally removing the cigarette from his mouth.
The growl of a zipper was his companion's eloquent response. Boots, treaded as heavily as possible and still be light enough for exquisite gymnastic moves. Leather, lined in rabbit's fur, over close-fitting garments of raw silk. The gloves and the inside of the knees had rubber patches dotted for traction. The light magnification lenses had already been dialed down in anticipation of the snow.
The wind howled outside, speaking another warning to the people planning on braving its best in hopes of delivering innocents from the beastly weather.
He knew his presence was expected, and he had better protections against the horrid night--heavier clothes, cigarettes, and whiskey. Not nearly enough.
"Any chance we could make like smart people and take a pass on tonight?" Slam Bradley asked, putting out his cigarette.
"There are kids out there," Selina said, pulling her mask down. "No one takes a pass on tonight."
Author's Note "'Tis not a night fit for man nor beast" comes from, I believe, the Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer Christmas Special. This ficlet is actually made up of the scrapped lines from some of the earlier Christmas ficlets. Smorgasbord! I believe I stole Slam smoking Dukes from Alexis Muirhead.