[And down, down, down, the snow goes. Greed doesn't even have time to get out of the way of it. Thankfully though, it's light enough that when Michael uses his wings to block it, what falls is merely a dusting; the look of it more like a fresh-falling storm, gentle and quiet.]

[The Sin shakes and from the tip of his head to the point of his tail, he sheds off some of the ice. He digs one of his claws into the shell of his ear, pulling out a rather sizable chunk.] Ehh, even if I did, it doesn't matter. I can always make it up to Ella later. [He cleans his nail using his thumb, sending a spittle of sleet onto the balcony.]

Ha - ! Fair enough. Suppose I shouldn't have doubted you. [While he talks, that vest of his slips off his shoulders. It glides over his elbows before he catches it by the collar. And as he holds it out, the 'Shield rises. Across his arms and over his chest, it goes; its movement as languid and slow as running ink.]

[When another snowball hits him in the face, the noise that follows is hard. Solid. Greed swipes at his jaw, and the tusks he's suddenly sporting shrink back down.] Ah, can't let you see that part. Sorry.

[No need to expose Michael to his ugly side, after all. But that doesn't mean he won't play ugly. Greed hooks one of his boots into the rail of the banister.] And why would I do that? I told you before to never hold back with me. There's no point, so why start now?

[This time, instead of snow, it's his vest that he flings up first. And he hopes it's enough of a distraction. Because what follows is the whole bag of ice. Using the bottom as a gripping point, the former homunculus tosses it up, leaving its top split wide open to let its contents spill out in a large, sweeping fan.]

[And behind it all? Is him. Him leaping up onto the next balcony, claws out, and laughter in his throat.]