"Good. I'd hate to see your work gone to waste." Everything counts, doesn't it? And this place hardly seems like the easiest place to be collecting them. Snow might help some of them keep, anyway. Works out well for everyone.

Herc chuckles, at that. "Can't say I'm an expert in it," he admits, wandering down the gentle hill with long, easy strides. "Haven't done one in... more than a decade, probably."

Since before Chuck was too grown up for that kinda nonsense, old man. Maker, he'd hated being called that. What he wouldn't give now, though, for his son being a right pain in the arse. He's not leading them too far off, onto a decent flat stretch with a good bit of powder, before he turns back to Merrill, bending as he does so to scoop up some some snow. "What pose you want it to be in. Standing or rearing up might be a bit of a challenge."

Just, you know. So she doesn't raise her expectations of his skills too high, here.