For Maine, those twenty minutes are spent warming himself by the fireplace. He strips off his outer layers and hangs them on the backs of chairs, then pulls those chairs close to the fire as well. He's determined to be both warm and dry by the time he has to venture back out into the cold.

Removing layers really doesn't help make Maine look any less massive. If anything, it only reveals that his bulk has nothing to do with clothing. So he's a little surprised when, once again, the commanding girl approaches without a hint of fear.

He's starting to get the feeling he shouldn't be surprised. That maybe she's just some sort of firework in human form.

At the mention of color, the space marine shrugs. He has a preference, of course, but he values function over appearance. The bundled fabric feels warm when he accepts it. Maybe that's just in his head. Some kind of unconscious reaction to touching the wool.

The items look well-made. Hell of a lot better than what he'd been working with. He's used to wearing black ... and the teal stripe reminds him of Carolina.

Maine meets the girl's eyes and nods. "Thanks," he grunts. His voice is deep and sounds a lot like a growl, but the word is clear.