Ever the impatient one. Gingerly Seifer began to unpack the things from his bag, laying them out in front of the fireplace to dry. He'd especially like to put on those thermals for the moment. Though he'll probably just stay in the scrubs so he doesn't get them dirty. How's he going to wash any of this? Idly he bats her hand away, stop whacking him he's cold and defenseless that's rude. "Pinching only works for dreams." He reminded her. Plenty of pain never broke the delusions, or did she forget the number of times he'd been whipped, shot, and stabbed?

Thankfully, he'd think. Merciful at the very least. He wished he didn't remember anything that happened. His was different, impossible to separate himself from the things he'd done. He wasn't entirely sure it wasn't all his own choice in the end. Now probably wouldn't be a good time to try to bring it up unless she wanted him to bolt back into the cold, damn the consequences.

His brows furrowed in thought at the question. What did he remember..? "Fishing. Wasn't winter." When did it get to be winter? That part was especially bothering him. Losing huge chunks of time was always a distressing situation. Honestly he had no idea why she was asking. Maybe he'd been out of it and escaped a hospital? That could be.